


Penance

by Kim Gasper (mickeym)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Amnesia, Anal Sex, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-10
Updated: 1999-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/Kim%20Gasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair loses his memory after a vicious attack that leaves him near death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penance

 

 

"Goddammit, Sandburg--what the *hell* were you thinking?"  Jim barely waited for the loft door to swing shut behind him before lighting into his partner.  Blair swung around to look at him, recoiling slightly from the seething detective.

"What d'you mean?  I didn't do anything unusual--nothing you wouldn't have done."  Blair spread his hands in an attempt to placate, but Jim wasn't having anything to do with that.

"Maybe that's the problem--you've gotten too used to that.  'Taking a risk' has gotten to be the norm for you.  Endorphins spiking right now, Professor?"

"That's not fair, Jim.  I don't yell at you when you do something potentially risky or stupid."

"Yeah, well, it's my *job* to put my life on the line; it's not yours."

"Since when is it your job to endanger yourself?  C'mon, Jim...be reasonable, man.  You're coming unglued over nothing."

"I don't see it that way."  Jim paced the room like a caged animal and Blair drew away, nearer the door.  "It's like you've suddenly decided you're Superman or something," Jim continued his rant.  "Don't you have any idea, after this long, what bullets can do to a person?"

"Come on, Jim.  It's not like I was in any real danger."  Blair halted his steady backwards movement.  "Man, I can't even believe you're getting yourself all worked up over this. Everyone's fine, so what difference does it make?"

"Sandburg--"

"Come on, Jim, lighten up."  Blair tried a smile on the bigger man, his tone carefree.

"Don't try to blow this off," Ellison commented between clenched teeth.  "You were in danger out there, Sandburg."

"What, like that doesn't happen every time I walk out of here with you?  Come on, Jim.  You're gonna have to do better than that."  The grad student grinned and continued, "Besides, it's not like it would matter--you're the important one in this partnership, big guy."

Blair watched in amazement as Jim's entire body stiffened.  "That's not even funny, Blair."  The words were delivered in a tone that made ice seem warm.

"Well, so what's your problem?  How come all of a sudden you're all over my ass?"

Jim jerked his head up, frustration and naked longing etched on his face.  "Because I'm in love with you, dammit, and I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you, especially on the job!"

As soon as the words were out he wished them back.  Time ceased within the loft; both occupants were frozen, staring at each other.  Before Jim had a chance to say anything else, Blair spun around, grabbed his keys and coat, and was out the door--gone.

Jim stared at the door, wondering when and if he'd be back.  And wondering how he'd managed to screw up so completely the one relationship that meant more to him than any other ever had.

                    *************************

'He loves me?  He's *in* love with me?  Since when?'  The thoughts circled restlessly inside Blair's head, causing an itch that the grad student longed to scratch.  *Since when* was a good question.  Jim had never--*NEVER*--indicated that he felt anything for his partner-cum-roommate beyond a just-friends feeling.  Yeah, they were *good* friends.  Best friends, even.  Lived together, worked together, played together.  Hell, they did

everything *but* sleep together.  So when did Jim decide he wanted to do that as well?  "Damn," he mumbled out loud.  He'd been hiding and sublimating his feelings for so long he didn't even remember anymore when they'd started.  He *didn't* need this now.  Didn't need the confusion it brought.

And now what?  Where did they go from here?  From best friends, to two men who obviously loved each other.  Were *in* love with each other.  How did he bridge that gap?  Yesterday, hell, thirty minutes ago, they were best friends, nothing else.  Now he faced the possibility of being able to tell Jim how he felt.  No more hiding, no more shoving feelings down so far they got lost in everything else.  His head started to hurt from the thoughts running rampant through there, but one stayed uppermost in his mind:  When had Jim fallen in love with him?

Blair shook his head and eased the car out onto I-5.  He didn't have any particular destination in mind, just wanted to drive for a while.  He needed to think, figure out where he was going with these thoughts of his.

His mind gave the mental equivalent of a shudder when he tried to conceive of how Jim could be in love with him.  As far as he knew, Jim Ellison, Detective, Sentinel and upstanding citizen, was as straight as straight got.  And himself?  "Well, bent in a few places, but that makes life more interesting."  He laughed, a slightly hysterical sound

in the closeness of the car, and turned up the radio in an effort to shut out his thoughts for a few minutes.

                    *************************

'Shit.  Way to go, Ellison.'  Jim stared at the closed door, hoping against hope it would open at any moment and Blair would come bounding back inside the room.  He knew it was a futile hope; he hadn't heard anything in the half-hour since the Corvair had roared out of the parking area.  Damn, damn, damn!  What had he been thinking anyway?  Well, obviously, *not* thinking was what it amounted to.  Who knew that his feelings were so close to the surface?  He'd been doing such a good job of keeping them hidden away, had been doing it for so long.  Just one stupid little incident to bring everything swarming to the surface.

                         ***************************

Earlier that morning...

There were at least three children in the building with the kidnappers; everyone on the street could hear them when they screamed for help, the sounds echoing in the dark quiet of early morning.  The kidnappers had decided that they weren't going to be content with the situation and had upped the ante:  deliver the ransom money in thirty minutes, or the kids would die, one at a time so the remaining ones could watch and anticipate.  And the deaths would *not* be quick or painless.

Jim and Simon consulted with two of the snipers from the SWAT team they'd called out, then decided on Jim trying to get around the back of building.  He would hear the men in case they tried anything and could react accordingly.  Blair stood next to the Expedition, quietly for a change, his eyes watching the building.  Jim could see how this was affecting his guide--the younger man's hands trembled slightly and his breathing was rough, as if he were in pain.

"Chief?"

"Yeah, Jim."

"You okay, buddy?"

"Fine.  Just...had some thoughts about those kids, man.  They're never gonna be the same after this."

Jim watched his friend closely.  "We'll see that they get help, Sandburg.  You know that."

"Yeah, but man, it'll leave scars."

"Maybe."  The detective shook his head.  "What's up here, Chief?"

Blair stared at him, eyes large in the darkness.  "I was in school one time--not long after me and Naomi left the commune—and there was this guy, he wasn't happy with...hell, I don't remember anymore.  Anyway, he took one of the classes hostage and threatened

to kill the kids one at a time unless whoever it was he had his beef with listened to him."

"Was it your class?"  Jim asked the question gently, sure of the answer.  Blair surprised him though.

"Not mine, no.  But a good friend of mine *was* in that class, and she was one of the ones who died before they took him seriously."

"Ah, Blair...I'm sorry, buddy."  Jim rested a hand on Blair's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, longing to wrap his partner in his arms and hold him.  "Hey, Chief."  He waited until the younger man looked up at him.  "That's *not* going to happen here, okay?  We'll get those kids out."  It was a personal thing, anyway.  Jim hated people who picked on children--it smacked of weakness and cowardice.  Sure, pick on someone a lot smaller than you.  What good was that?  Pitting yourself against a smaller, younger, weaker adversary was pointless and proved nothing.

"I know,"  Blair responded quietly.  Jim squeezed his shoulder once more, then turned away to get his earpiece and microphone.  A hand on his wrist stopped him.  "Hey, Jim--thanks."

He turned back.  "Nothing to thank me for," he replied gruffly. "And keep your head down, understand?  I don't need to worry about you, too."

"Right."  Blair smiled, one of his megawatt smiles, and Jim felt his heart roll over in his chest.

                    *************************

Jim snorted at the memory.  Of course Sandburg hadn't done what he'd told him.  Not only had he not kept his head down, as soon as one of the kidnappers appeared in the doorway, an arm wrapped securely around a small neck, gun pointed at a small head, Blair had rushed the man, tackling him with a strength Jim had never considered the smaller man having.  All of this taking place in the midst of an unending spray of gunfire.

It had taken all his self-control not to ream Blair there in public; that same self-control was sorely strained by his intent to not wrap the younger man in his arms and never let go.  The agonizing wait while the kidnappers were read their rights and readied for transport; the children, all unharmed, thank god, checked out; his own slight injury caused by a flying piece of glass, tended to.  During the entire interminable period Blair had waited quietly in the truck, probably sensing from the smoldering glares Jim threw his way that he was in *serious* trouble when they got home.

And then he botched it.  Couldn't he have just yelled at him, worked it through and out of his system, then got on with life?  Hell no!  He had to totally screw it up.

He rubbed his head absently, noting that the cut on the side of his temple had faded to a slight sting--no more noticeable now than an insect bite would be.  A glance at the clock showed that it had been over three hours now since Blair had rushed out.  When was he coming back?  Was he coming back?  Jim sighed.  It was time to get ready for work.  Simon had told him to relax, take the morning off, but he needed the diversion.  Holding in his mind the thought that Blair *had* to come back, if only to retrieve his stuff, Jim headed for the bathroom to shower and shave, his hearing extended, just in case.

             *************************

A semi sounding its horn at him pulled Blair from the near-doze he'd been sinking into and he corrected his shift between lanes.  Christ, he was tired.  A quick glance at his watch showed it to be...oh, shit, it wasn't really nearly ten, was it?  Man, he'd been gone for *hours*.  Jim was *really* gonna kill him when he got back.

He shook his head to clear the fog, then cocked it when he heard a choking noise.  The Corvair faltered slightly, coughed again and began decelerating.  Blair frowned and glanced at the gas gauge which read below the red "Empty" line.  Oh, man, could thisday *get* any worse?  As soon as the thought wandered through his head Blair banished it.  The answer to that question was *always* 'YES'. 

He looked around, trying to figure out where he was, how far he'd traveled.  Last time he'd really been aware of a direction was turning off of I-5 onto I-90.  It looked, judging from the sign he saw coming up, that he was now on State Highway 28, probably heading toward Spokane.  God, how long had he been driving?  At least three hours.  'Wonder if I'll make it to the next town?'  As if in answer to his question the car choked and coughed a couple more times, then quietly died.  Blair guided it off the road and sat there, head in his hands, trying to decide the best course of action.  He could call Jim to come get him, or he could call a tow truck to take him to a gas station.  He could do neither of those, he realized with a start, since the cell phone was in his backpack, which was at home.  All he'd grabbed when he left were his jacket and his keys.  Dammit!

He vaguely remembered a gas station maybe ten miles or so back; closer than the next town, at any rate.  Maybe if he made it there he could find someone to give him a lift back to his car, or at least call a tow truck to come get it.  He sighed looking out the window at the sky; it was promising to rain, possibly snow.  'I hate this fucking state and the fucking weather.  I *swear* I'm moving to the tropics before winter next year.'  Blair snorted.  Yeah, *right*.  How many years had he been saying that now?  He stuck the keys in his pocket, grabbed his spare pair of mitts from the glove box and exited the car.  No one in sight.  Well, why should there be?  After all, it was early November, and a weekday.  That dismal thought in mind, Blair turned up the collar on his jacket and headed back in the direction he'd come from.

*************************

It seemed like he'd been walking for hours.  Well, maybe he had.  His watch showed it was almost noon.  He squinted into the distance and thought he saw the outline of buildings against the gray November sky.  Several cars had passed him, but none had slowed down and he'd been loathe to try hitching.  While there was a time not too far in the past when he'd have stuck his thumb out in a heartbeat, he'd been working with the police for nearly two years now and had seen up close and personal some of the results of such impulses.

Blair shivered and huddled further into the collar of his jacket, wishing, not for the first time, that he hadn't acted so impulsively this morning.  Of course, how the hell was he supposed to react, with a bombshell like that dropped on him?  'Jim loves me...'  He shook his head, trying to clear it.  Jim had loved him five, six hours ago.  Now, he'd probably kill him the minute he saw him again.  If he'd been worried last night, during the hostage situation, that was *nothing* compared to being gone for hours on end, with no word.  Blair sighed again and lowered his head, trying to keep the driving wind from freezing his eyes out.

 *************************

Jim glowered at the phone in his hand.  He'd tried the loft, he'd tried Blair's office.  He'd tried Blair's cell phone, just in case his partner had returned home and picked it up.  Damn, damn, *DAMN*!  He slammed the receiver down with more force than necessary, a strange feeling clenching at his stomach.  'I shouldn't have told him.  I didn't mean to tell him.  What if something's happened to him?  I'll never forgive myself.'

"Jim?  You okay?"

He jerked his head up to see Joel Taggart standing by his desk, gazing at him in concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Joel. Thanks.  Just...worried a little about Blair."

"What happened?"  The large man settled himself into the chair next to Jim's desk.  'Blair's chair,' Ellison thought with a pang.

"Uh, we had a, well...an argument this morning and he rushed out.  I haven't heard from him since."

"When this morning?"

"Around six or so, not long after we got home from the Tompkins case."

"Ah.  Ripped him a new one, huh?"

"What?!"  Jim raised his eyes hurriedly, wondering what Taggart knew, or thought he knew.

"Hey, Jim, anyone could tell looking at you that you were pissed as hell at the kid.  I know you told him to stay put and he didn't.  So, what'd you do?  Threaten to kill him?  Maim him?"

"No," Jim muttered quietly.  "Nothing that dramatic.  But I did...say some things I may regret..."

Taggart stood up and rested a warm hand on Jim's shoulder for a minute.  "Give him time--he's probably off makin' like a bunny with one of his harem.  He'll get over it and you guys can get on with your lives.  But Jim, man, cool it, okay?  You scare *me* when you get mad."

"Right," Jim muttered when Taggart moved from his desk.  "The day I scare *you*, I turn in my badge."  But his mind wouldn't move from Joel's other words:  'makin' like a bunny...harem...'  He nearly groaned out loud.  Odds were laid ten to one that Joel was right, and that hurt worse than anything.  'It was a major shock, Ellison, the poor kid wasn't expecting anything like that.  It'd be understandable for him to...' To what?  Go fuck some little co-ed, knowing that Jim was in love with him?  Blair wasn't that shallow.  He'd come back, and they could talk.  Jim could explain how much he needed him, wanted him, cherished him.  He groaned again.  Sandburg had been gone for over six hours now.  Where the hell was he?

*************************

"Hey, man--need a ride?"

The car slowed down next to him, a pale face peering out the window.  Blair turned toward it.

"Yeah, if it's not a problem."

"Nah, no prob.  Where you headin' to?"

Blair pointed with his chin.  "Gas station up the road, whatever's first.  My car ran out back there," he jerked a thumb in the opposite direction.  "I just need to get a tow to get it filled."

"No prob, man.  Climb on in."  The young man with the pale face and dark hair climbed over the seat into the back and Blair slid into the vacated seat.

"Thanks a lot, man.  God, it's freezing out."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?"  The driver, another young man—Blair guessed both boys were about 19 or 20--pushed down on the gas and the car leapt forward.  "Kinda car you drive, man?"

"Corvair."  Blair smiled, thinking about his car.  Jim gave him a lot of grief about it, but he loved the old thing.

"That's cool.  My old man useta have a '65 Mustang...bitchin' car, that one.  He wrapped it around a tree one night after drinkin' too much."

"Bummer, man."  Blair smiled inwardly once again.  These kids were like the ones that passed through his classes every day.  He turned and looked at the guy in the back seat.  There was a girl there too, huddled next to the young man.  "Hey, thanks again for picking me up.  Think I was walking for, like, hours."

"Can seem that way when it's real cold out."

"Yeah.  It can."

The kids seemed content to be quiet after that, and Blair respected their silence.  All he wanted to do was find a truck stop or a gas station, call a tow truck and be on his way home. Maybe he'd even risk calling the loft and leaving a message.  Surely if he tried to contact Jim his Sentinel wouldn't go *completely* ballistic on him when he returned home.  Would he?  His stomach rolled over at the thought of Jim going ballistic in a totally different way, and he nearly missed the sign for the gas stations at the exit they were breezing past.

"Hey!  You could have dropped me off there--"  The words froze in Blair's throat when he felt the prick of a knife against his throat.  "We could, but we're not gonna.  Now shut up!"

ShitshitSHIT.  This was exactly why he *didn't* hitch anymore!  Too many weirdos in the world.  "What do you want?  My wallet?  Keys to the car?  You can have it—anything you want, just--"

"I said, *Shut* *Up*," the young man in the back seat stressed the words, pushing a little harder with the knife.

The car did a 180-degree turn then and Blair realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that these kids had never intended to let him off anywhere.  They'd seen him walking, alone, vulnerable, an easy target.  He rolled his eyes over to make contact with the guy holding the knife.  "Come on, man, you don't want to do this really.  Let me go.  I'll give you my wallet...just let me out of the car." 

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he screamed as he backhanded Blair.  "You're not getting out of the fucking car, so shut your mouth or I'll kill you instead of just robbing you!"

They drove for another ten minutes or so before turning off the main road onto a secondary road, labeled only as "Highway 21."  The man behind the wheel whispered something to the man leaning over the seat, then turned his attention back to the road.  The minutes ticked by, the knife point pressing into his skin.  Blair could feel droplets of moisture running down his neck, but wasn't sure if they were blood or sweat--even in the frigid air he was sweaty, probably from the adrenaline pumping through his system.  He closed his eyes.  'I can do this--I can stop this guy...just get me out of this...please god, if you're up there and listening...I could use some help with this one...' A deep breath to center, to calm him.  He opened his eyes and feinted slightly to the side, hand reaching for the knife.  A cold, steely touch to his temple stopped him and he gaped in surprise at the young woman holding a gun to his head.  'What the fuck is this?  Kids-with-dangerous-weapons day?'

"Don't," she breathed, hands shaking a little.  "I don't want to shoot you."

Blair closed his eyes.  He was about to get blown away by some punk kid, and Jim would never know that his feelings were returned.

The car slowed, then stopped.  Blair opened his eyes to see the driver getting out.  The boy with the knife followed, and then he was dragged bodily from the car.  'Oh, man, this doesn't look good.'

He was still thinking that when the first of the punches caught him squarely in the solar plexus.

*************************

Blair's office was empty, with no signs that anyone had been in at all today.  Jim stopped off at the Anthropology department office.  The secretary, a young Latina woman, looked up with a harried expression in her eyes when he spoke to her.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm Detective Ellison.  I'm looking for Blair Sandburg.  He wasn't in his office and I was wondering if you'd seen him today?"  Jim flashed his badge and the young woman smiled briefly.

"You're the cop friend, aren't you?  No, Blair hasn't been in at all today--he had two classes to teach, too."

"Did anyone hear from him?"

"I don't think so.  Hey, Monica!"  She turned and called over her shoulder.

"Yeah?"  A voice from behind a partition.

"Do you know if anyone talked to Blair today?  Knows where he is?  The cops are looking for him."  Her eyes twinkled at Jim at the last line.

"Haven't a clue, Ana.  Far as I know, no one's heard from or seen him today."

Ana swung her head back around.  "Sorry, Detective."

He smiled--at least, that's what it felt like his lips were doing.  "Thanks.  I appreciate it."

"No problem."

Jim left campus with the dread in his stomach growing stronger with each passing minute.  Something had happened to Blair--he'd be home by now, otherwise.  Or at least would have called.  'Dammit, Blair--I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to blurt it out, scare you like that.  Please, buddy...be okay.  Don't do this to me...please don't do this...please be okay...'  If something *had* happened to Blair, it was his fault.  He should have been able to control himself better than that.

 *************************

Blair groaned as another punch contacted solidly with his ribs, and felt as much as heard the *crack* from the bone breaking.  He wasn't sure which one was hitting him anymore; all he was aware of was the incredible pain shooting through his body and the red haze that was hanging in front of his eyes.

"Fuckin' fag," one of the boys said as he slammed another punch into Blair's stomach.  He moaned quietly, not even able to summon up the strength for a real protest any longer.

Part of his brain was still working, processing...trying to recall why the boys would make *that* comment...oh, yeah.  They'd found a picture of him and Jim in his wallet, when they'd removed it to take his cash.  He hadn't even remembered the picture—it was taken shortly after Kincaid had held up the precinct--an old picture.  Why'd he have it?  'Cause it was a nice picture, them getting an award for action 'above and beyond the call of duty', or something like that.  They had their arms looped across each other's shoulders, and were smiling into the camera.  To most people it would look just like two friends mugging for the camera--which was what it had been.  Apparently his two assailants chose to make it something more.  Then they'd found his police credentials, tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuckin' fag fuckin' works for the cops," the other boy had said, spitting toward him.

"Man, pigs and fags--lethal combination.  Should we off him?"

"Nah--let's just leave 'im...he'll be dead soon enough--no one'd last long out here."

"Better idea--let's drive for a while, then toss him outta the car.  Make sure."

"Yeah!  That's cool, man.  Let's go."

They shoved him back into the car, pushing more roughly when he Stumbled, trying to keep from jarring his broken ribs so much.  He lay across the seat, gasping for breath, the red haze dancing dizzily, black dots swimming through it. 

The passage of time ceased for him--he was aware only of the motion of the car beneath his body, then a loud noise as the door was wrenched open next to him.  Cold air hit his face, blowing stinging droplets of rain against his skin, and he was falling...arms and legs flailing, trying to catch something, hold on.  His freefall ended abruptly with a sickening thud that resounded dully through his skull, and the world went black around him.

*************************

"Sarge, there's something lying on the side of the road up there."

"Jenkins, how the hell can you see that far?  And in this rotten light, no less?"

The young trooper grinned.  "Lotta carrots, Sarge.  Seriously, there's something there."

Sargent Koloski nodded--he could make out the barest outline of...something.  Something too big to be a dog...  "Holy Christ, it's a person!"

State Trooper Jenkins paled slightly.  "You're right, Sarge.  Jesus!"  He barely waited for the patrol car to come to a halt before throwing himself out the door, running for the man lying there as if dead.

"Is he dead?"

"Not yet," was the blunt answer. 

Koloski followed his partner as soon as he'd put the car in park. Jenkins was carefully checking the man's neck and back when he arrived at his side.  He helped him gently roll the young man over, taking care not to jostle him too much.  He sucked his breath in over his teeth at the bruises mottling the skin that was exposed; there was also a large gash and prominent bump over the right eye.

"What else, Jenkins?"  Koloski asked tersely.

"He's hypothermic.  Broken ribs, I think--or at least cracked badly.  Looks like a sprained ankle, too, judging from the swelling.  But Sarge--" Jenkins lifted the shirt and both men

sucked air in this time.  "Sarge, he's in a pretty bad way.  Whoever did this worked him over thoroughly.  I wouldn't be surprised if he's bleeding internally."  Jenkins shifted the body gently, searching through his pockets for a wallet, ID of any sort.  "I can't find his wallet."

"Right."  Koloski nodded and headed for the car radio.  He contacted dispatch and requested a LifeFlight chopper, then returned to his partner's side with the emergency kit and blankets from the trunk. "Jenkins."

"Yeah, Sarge?"

"Chopper's on its way, ETA about 20 minutes."

"Gotcha.  Can you help me wrap the blankets around him?  Be careful not to raise his arms or legs very high."  Jenkins pressed two fingers to the man's neck, feeling for a pulse.  He shook his head.  "It's really weak, thready.  I hope that chopper hurries."

Koloski grunted an answer, trying to get a blanket under the young man's head without moving him too much.  "Damn I hate to see shit like this," the older man muttered.  His partner looked over at him, eyebrow raised questioningly.  "Kid like this, beaten--probably didn't have more than twenty bucks in his wallet, he's been beaten within an inch of his life...Shit!"  He drew back, startled, when swollen, bruised eyes opened suddenly, staring straight at him.  Koloski opened his mouth to speak to the kid, but didn't get the chance.  The eyes closed again as quickly as they'd opened.

"I don't guess that counts as regaining consciousness?"  Koloski looked at his partner, his eyebrow raised in question.

"No."  Jenkin's answer was clipped as he stared in concern at the young man.

Koloski checked his watch then began scanning the sky.  "Damn I hope that chopper gets here soon."

Jenkins nodded from his position next to their John Doe.  "Me, too.  He's not gonna last much longer without medical attention."  The young trooper shook his head.  "It's a good thing we decided to go this way, rather than save this road for the end of the patrol.  He'd have been a corpse by then."

Koloski nodded.  "Wonder how long he's been here?"

"I'd guess a couple of hours.  His body temp must be pretty low--he's not even shivering anymore."

"How the hell do you know all this?"  Koloski was astounded.  All the troopers were trained in emergency first aid; his partner seemed to have several levels beyond that.

"I got my EMT license before I decided what I really wanted to do was law enforcement.  A lot of the training has come in handy on remote patrols like this one."  The younger man blushed under the keen stare.  "C'mon, Sarge--I'm not the only one who knows this stuff."

"Maybe not, but you're one of the better ones.  Heads up," Koloski said, gesturing toward the sky.  "Doe's ride is here."

"I'll ride along, if they've got room, and report to the doctor."

"Sounds good, kid."

 ************************

By the time Koloski made the drive to Spokane and found his partner, Blair Sandburg had been admitted to the hospital, under the name of John Doe.

He'd never regained consciousness.  The trauma team checked him over and decided the rest of his injuries could wait until they had him warmed up again.  His core body temperature was 82.7 degrees.

Koloski listened to Jenkins' report, shaking his head.  He knew that on top of that the kid was concussed, with numerous other fractures as well, not to mention the beating.  'I'm *really* glad we did decide to go that way,' he thought as he made a mental note to call his own son when he got home and tell him he loved him.  This man was someone's brother, father, son, spouse...something.  There was someone out there who was looking for him...wondering, worried.

"C'mon, Jenkins.  We've got quite a drive before we get home, and I want to come back tomorrow, see how our boy is doing."  Koloski glanced at his watch.  Christ, it was after eleven now.  He sighed.  Well, long day, short night, another long day.  A day in the life of a Washington State Trooper...

 *************************

Jim rolled over and stared at the clock.  The luminous numbers-- which he'd have been able to see even if they weren't—showed 4:34am.  It'd been nearly 24 hours since Blair had stormed out of the loft.  He hadn't called, hadn't been seen by anyone...hadn't been home.  Regular calls to the station last night had netted him nothing, other than to irritate the desk officer on duty—and he'd apologized repeatedly.  Where was he?  Was he okay?  With friends?  A woman?  Sick or wounded? 

He dug his fingers into the material of his blanket, heartsick at the thought that something had happened to Blair--and reasonably positive that something had.  If Blair was okay he'd have heard something by now--if only because Blair would *never* not contact him to at

least let him know he was okay.  He flicked his eyes to the clock.  4:38am.  Jim got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.  There was no way he was going to get any sleep--might as well make use of the time.

6:30am saw him striding into the nearly deserted bullpen, a determined look on his tired features.  Most everyone was home--regular duty shifts for the detectives didn't generally begin until 8:00am, but he couldn't wait any longer.  Couldn't sit at home and twiddle his fingers.  With shaking hands and a heavy heart he dialed dispatch and asked them to put out a state-wide APB on Blair Sandburg.

He was sitting at his desk when Simon arrived about a quarter 'til eight.  His captain offered a greeting, then swore softly when he saw that Jim was sitting there, eerily still and silent--obviously zoned on something.

"Jim."  Simon spoke quietly, shaking his shoulder a bit.

"*Jim*."  A little more forceful this time, a rougher shake to arm.

"Come on, Ellison, snap out of it.  Come on, come on..."

Jim blinked slowly, breathing deeply to fill his lungs with the oxygen that had been slowly running out in his system.  "Simon?"

"Yeah, Jim.  What happened?  Where's Sandburg?"

"We need to talk, sir."

Simon gave him an assessing look.  "Come on into my office."

**************************

The call on the Corvair came in first.  Brown frowned at the report, then got up to knock on Simon's door, knowing both he and Jim would want to know.

"Come."

The normally smiling man was unusually grim when he stuck his head through the door.  "State's found Sandburg's car, out on highway 28, about ten miles from the turn-off for Moses Lake.  It'd been sitting a while--they pulled two citations from it."

"*Moses Lake*?"  'What the *hell* was he doing out there?'  "You're sure, Brown?"  Jim could feel the fear rising up in him.

"Positive.  The news just came in over the wire."

"Man, that's only maybe 80 miles or so from Spokane."  Simon watched Jim barely holding it together.  "What sort of condition was it in?"

Brown shook his head.  "They didn't say.  I'll call back and find out."

"Thanks, Brown."  Jim dropped his gaze back to the floor, guilt flooding his system.

"Jim--it could mean nothing."  Simon tried to keep his voice neutral.

"I know exactly what it means, Sir.  I failed him.  He counted on me to keep him safe, and I let him down.  This is my penance for that."  Jim clasped his hands together in an effort to keep them from shaking, then jumped up from the chair he'd been perching on to pace the floor restlessly.  "I have to *do* something, Simon-- I can't just sit here.  God, it's been...over 24 hours now.  Who knows what's happened to him!"

"Let Brown call the State Patrol and find out the condition of the car.  Then you can start your search in the Moses Lake area."  The phone rang on Simon's desk, cutting off any further comments he might have made, as well as Jim's responses.  "Banks.  Yeah, he's right here."  He held the phone away from his ear.  "For you."

"Thanks."  Jim took the receiver, praying it was good news.  "Ellison."

"Detective Ellison?  This is Sergeant Adam Koloski, of the Washington State Patrol.  We found a man yesterday evening who matches the description on the APB for a Blair Sandburg."

"Yes?"  Jim could barely keep the tremor from his voice.

"We air-lifted him to Spokane General Hospital, Detective.  He was in a pretty bad way when we found him."

"How bad?"  Jim shot Simon a look, wishing he could hear the conversation too.

"When we found him he was suffering from hypothermia due to exposure, and what appears to be a nasty beating."

Jim was silent for a long moment, his eyes closed as he tried to block the images that Koloski was conjuring up for him.

"Detective?"

"Yeah, I'm here.  You said 'matches the description'.  What about his ID?"

"We couldn't ID him--no wallet, nothing.  Looks like he might have been robbed."

"He's at Spokane General right now?"

"Yes.  He's been admitted as a John Doe."

"Fine.  I'll be there in a few hours."

"In that case, I'll fill you in when you get here.  I'll be at the hospital, waiting for you.  Take exit 29a from I-90.  Left at the light, then right, then right again.  You can't miss it."

"Thanks, Sergeant."

Jim hung up the phone.  "They found Sandburg--he's been air-lifted to a hospital in Spokane.  The trooper that found him said he's in pretty bad shape."

Simon nodded.  "You want me to go with you?"

Ellison shook his head.  "No--there's no need.  It's a four-hour trip each way, Simon.  Plus if he's gonna be in the hospital for any length of time..."

"Take as much time as you need, Jim.  I know how much the kid means to you."

Jim raised pain- and guilt-filled eyes to his captain.  "You do?"

"I do.  You might be good at hiding things, Ellison, but I was a good detective before I took this job.  Now go on, get out of here."

The detective nodded his thanks since his voice seemed to have forgotten how to work, turned, and left the room.

*************************

The trip actually was closer to four and a half hours; he made it in a little under three.

The directions that Sergeant Koloski gave him were easy to follow; ten minutes after arriving in Spokane he was pulling up in front of the entrance to Spokane General Hospital.  He hastily parked the Expedition in a space marked "Emergency and Police Vehicles", being sure to display the placard that designated his vehicle an 'official police vehicle' before hurrying into the hospital.

There was a man in a state trooper's uniform standing near the information desk and he headed toward him.

"Sergeant Koloski?  I'm Jim Ellison."

The trooper held a hand out and Jim grasped it. "Detective Ellison.  Nice to meet you."

"Call me Jim.  Where's Blair? Can I see him?"

"He's in CCU for now--I'll take you up there and you can talk to the doctor.  I'm going to need for you to identify him for me, then I need to get some information from you for my report."

"He hasn't said anything?"

"He hasn't regained consciousness yet."  Koloski watched the emotions playing across Jim's face.  "What's the story with this kid?"

Jim sighed.  "He's my partner."

"*He's* a cop?  What, you work Vice or something?"

Jim smiled slightly as he followed the sergeant into the elevator.  "No, I work in Major Crimes, and he's not a cop.  He's doing his doctoral thesis work on closed societies, and he rides along with me for information for his dissertation.  Officially, he's a civilian observer, but I consider him my partner.  He's helped me solve a lot of cases."

"Mmmm.  Different.  Kid fits in okay with the police structure?"

"Not at first--but he does better now."  Jim paused.  "Sergeant Koloski--"

"Call me Adam."

"Adam.  Is he...was he..."  Jim broke off, unable to articulate his thoughts.  They were all jumbled up inside him, pushing to get out.

"He was in pretty bad shape when we brought him in here, but this hospital has some damn good doctors.  He's getting good care, Jim."  The elevator pinged then, signaling their floor.

Jim nodded, tight-lipped, and followed Koloski off the elevator and down the hallway.

There was a small group of people, several dressed in scrubs and one in a white doctor's coat, standing in a cluster near the nurses' station. 

"Doctor Halings," the trooper called.  The woman in question turned, a smile breaking out on her face.  "Back so soon, Sergeant?"

"This is Detective Ellison.  Jim,  Dr. Sarah Halings.  She's your partner's doctor."

"Dr. Halings,"  Jim offered his hand.

"Detective.  Nice to meet you.  I hope you can give us some information--your young friend says he doesn't remember his name."

"He's awake?"  Koloski shot a glance at Jim.

"Off and on, just a few minutes ago."  Halings leafed through the charts in the bin and pulled one out.  "I was just getting ready to go back in there."

"Wait a minute."  Jim held a hand up.  "He doesn't remember his own name?  What happened to him?"

The doctor studied Jim, frowning.  "He's a very sick young man.  Did Sergeant Koloski tell you anything?"

Jim nodded.  "A little.  Nothing real detailed."

"Okay.  Let's sit down and talk, shall we?  Sergeant, if you have anything else you need to do, this is just going to be rehashing what you pretty much already know." 

"That's fine," the sergeant nodded, "but I need Jim to positively ID Mr. Sandburg for us.  Especially in light of his not remembering who he is."

The doctor looked at both men, then nodded.  "He's resting right now, so we'll need to be quiet.  He was very agitated when he woke a little while ago."  She escorted Jim and Koloski to the door, then paused and addressed Jim.  "He looks pretty bad, Detective.  I know you're in law enforcement, but it's different when it's someone close to us.  Are you ready?"

Jim nodded and she pushed the door open.

The lighting was low, but Jim's sentinel-enhanced vision allowed him to see clearly.  Too clearly.  He choked back rising nausea at the sight of the beloved, battered figure lying on the bed in front of him.  The only thing really recognizable was Sandburg's curls, though the scent and heartbeat were familiar.  He took two cautious steps into the small room and gazed down at bed, recoiling inwardly at the thought of anyone doing this to Blair.

"It's him," he whispered in a ragged voice.  The man on the bed jerked reflexively and Dr. Halings motioned them out of the room.

They stood in the hallway outside, Jim doing deep breathing exercises to try and calm himself down.

"You okay, Jim?"  Sergeant Koloski placed a strangely gentle hand on Jim's shoulder.

"Yeah," he managed.

"Okay. You and Dr. Halings need to talk, so I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get a bite to eat--I'll come back up here and look for you when I'm done."

Ellison nodded a distracted thanks toward the sergeant, his concentration focusing on the doctor in front of him.  Halings guided him to the visitor's lounge.  "I have to ask for the record, Detective, what your relationship is to my patient, since there's the question of patient confidentiality involved here."

Jim drew several sheets of paper out of his jacket and handed them to her.  "Blair had these drawn up several months ago--I'm his emergency contact, since his mother is difficult to get a hold of, and, well--it's all in there."

He watched as Dr. Halings scanned the sheets that gave him the legal right to hear information of a delicate nature, along with the right to make decisions for Blair--such as the the right to decide to disconnect him from life support.  The same rights that a blood relative or spouse might have.  He pushed that thought to the back of his brain, a little disgusted with himself.  His partner was lying in a hospital bed, injured, and all he could think of was...

The doctor tucked the paperwork into Blair's file and folded her hands across it.  "Okay, to bring you up to speed.  Blair was brought into the hospital unconscious, suffering from moderately severe hypothermia.  His core body temperature upon arrival was under 83 degrees and we were unable to wake him.  He has a blow to the head and a probable concussion, as well as numerous cuts and scrapes.  Three ribs are fractured.  His right ankle is sprained.  He was also badly beaten."  She trailed off, watching Jim's face.  It'd grown progressively darker and fiercer as she talked.

The muscle in his jaw tightened.  "How badly?"

"Enough that the resultant swelling and bruising partially constricted his airway, and he's passing a small amount of blood when he urinates.  In addition to everything else, he's exhibiting symptoms of amnesia--which is not uncommon for head trauma and other types of physical/psychological trauma."

Jim felt his breath catch in his throat.  "What are you doing for him?"

"You mean medically?"

"Yes."

Dr. Halings paused.  "He's on oxygen right now, and he's receiving warm glucose water through an IV, along with a broad-spectrum antibiotic."  At Jim's quizzical look she added, "It's a precautionary measure against pneumonia, at least until his breathing eases a little and he can get up and move around some.  He's sick enough without anything else."

"Can I sit with him?"  Jim asked hoarsely.

"Of course.  Your presence may help reassure him--he was quite agitated when he first came to.  I need to check him out real quick anyway, so I'll take you there."  She stood and Jim followed her out of the lounge and down the hall.

The doctor paused again outside Blair's room.  "Give yourself a minute.  He'll probably look worse to you this time."

Jim nodded, then took a deep breath and followed Dr. Halings into the room.

*************************

The doctor was right.  Even though he halfway knew what to expect this time, shock still slammed into him, hurtled through him like a tidal wave.  His partner was--Jesus, he'd seen car wreck victims that didn't look as bad as Blair looked. His face was a mass of bruises; discolored and swollen.  His arm, which was about the only part besides his face that was visible, was dark with bruising.  There was an IV in that arm, dripping steadily, and a heart monitor beeped quietly in the background.  A small oxygen tube was attached to his nose, the nearly silent hissing noise sounding ominous in the still of room.  Several blankets were tucked around the battered figure, but Jim could still detect shivers racking the lean frame.  With a jolt he realized that smoky-blue eyes were gazing blearily at him.

"Hey, buddy," he said softly as he walked over toward the bed.  "How you feelin'?"

"Mmm...r-rotten."  The voice was low, rough and raspy.  It sounded like it hurt to talk.  The next words sent a chill spiraling through him.  "Who...are you?"

"I'm Jim.  You don't remember me?"

"Don't 'member...much of anything..."  There was a hint of panic in the voice and the eyes now, and Jim settled himself into the chair beside the bed, his hand reaching for Blair's.

To his surprise, the younger man grasped it--albeit weakly—like a lifeline.  Jim felt a rush of warmth surge through him.  Even though he didn't remember him, deep down Blair obviously felt that he could trust him.  He looked up to see the doctor staring at them.  She glanced down at Blair.

"Blair, I need to check your pupils and your temperature, then check to see how your swelling is doing, okay?"

A faint nod from the bed.  Dr. Halings carefully pushed the blankets down to Blair's waist and moved his gown aside, palpating his abdomen and sides gently.  She worked quickly and efficiently, moving on to check his body temperature and pupilary response.  Jim found himself watching Blair, surveying the damage himself.  He focused on his partner and winced as he realized just *how* damaged Blair's body was.  The bruising was deep and widespread.  Blood flow to several areas had been minimized due to swelling, though his body seemed to have compensated for that.  He could hear the ragged breaths, could almost feel the pinch and squeeze as Blair labored to make his chest work.  He was so focused on Blair that Dr. Haling's voice took him completely by surprise.

"Very nice!  Your temperature is coming up nicely--it's nearly 93 now."

"I...it's cold," a hoarse voice muttered.

"Yes, I know."  She tucked the blankets back around him, then continued, "I expect you'll be cold for a while to come.  As soon as you're warmed up to 96 we're going to take you down for some more x-rays and possibly a CAT scan.  See what's going on inside your noggin."  The doctor winked at Blair and he struggled to produce a smile in return.  "Are you in pain?"

Again the nod.

"I can give you something for it, but it will probably make you sleepy again.  It might also upset your stomach.  You're concussed, which always makes things shaky for the stomach. Are you all right with that?"

"Yes..."

The doctor turned to face Jim.  "I'll be on this floor for another hour or so.  You call the nurses station if *anything* appears to be amiss.  I'll have the nurse bring the medication in in a moment.  It'll make him sleepy, but rest is what his body needs.  We still need to check him every couple of hours, because of the concussion."

"Okay," Jim nodded.  The cool hand holding his gripped tighter all of a sudden and Jim turned his head to see Blair with his eyes closed tight, tears leaking from his lids.

"Blair?  What's wrong, buddy?"

"Hurts..." a gasp as he tried to pull air into his lungs. "Ohhh...hurts...I don't know...who I am...."

"Shhh...You're okay,"  Jim leaned closer to stroke silky curls from Blair's forehead.  "You're in the hospital--you're gonna be fine, Chief....just fine..."  He glanced up at the doctor in alarm.  She nodded.

"This is what I mean.  He's in a panicked state right now, but unable to do anything about it.  Can you keep him calm?  We're doing our best for him, but can't give him anything very strong because of the concussion."

"I'll do what I can," he said, still stroking Blair's forehead.  The motion seemed to soothe the younger man and he lay back against the pillows, quiet once again.

Sarah Halings looked at them, then headed for the door.  She paused there.  "I'll send someone in with the pain meds."

"Okay."  Jim didn't even look up at her this time, too busy stroking Blair's forehead and looking into the troubled eyes.

A nurse came in shortly afterward and checked the IV, then injected a syringe into the line; she smiled at Blair and told Jim quietly that it would probably only be about ten minutes before the effects of the medication were felt.

It wasn't more than a few minutes after she left that Blair rolled his eyes over toward Jim.  They were glazed, probably from pain, exhaustion and medication.

"Do you...know me?  Know who...I am?"

The question was asked in such a forlorn voice that Jim winced.

"Yeah, Chief.  Your name is Blair Sandburg.  You're a grad student at Rainier University in Cascade, Washington.  You've been my partner for almost two years now."

"Doing what?  *Who*...are you?"  The hysterical edge to Blair's voice gave way to a coughing spell that had the younger man pale, sweaty and gasping when it was over.

"You okay, Blair?  Should I call the doctor?"

"No--" he panted, trying not to jostle anything else as he breathed.  Damn, that hurt!  He raised his eyes to the stern-looking man sitting beside him, holding his hand.  Something about that hand felt right.  Natural.  "I--I'm okay..."

"You sure?"

"Mmhmm.  Uh...what'd you say...your name was?" 

"Jim.  Jim Ellison.  I'm a detective with Major Crimes."

"Cop?"  Even through the hoarseness, the panic and surprise were unmistakable.

"Yeah, I am.  Take it easy, Chief," he said with some alarm when Blair began shifting on the bed.  "It's okay--shhh...what's wrong?"

"I don't know...something about that...scared me..."  The voice was even raspier than it'd been a minute before and Jim winced again.

"Yeah, well, probably your mom instilled that in you.  She doesn't like the police a lot."

"You know...my mom?"  The hoarse voice was a little wistful now, the eyes sad.

Jim could hardly stand the pain--physical and emotional--in them.  God, he'd give anything to be able to pull Blair into his arms and reassure him.  "Yeah," he began, his own voice a little hoarse.  "I've met her a couple of times."

"Does she...like *you*?"

Jim shrugged.  "Yeah, I guess.  She thinks your following me will be your downfall," 'which is probably right,' he thought with some bitterness, "but she knows I try to watch out for you."

'Who *is* this man?' Blair wondered as he lay there, sleepy eyes watching the man sitting next to him.  He looked so rigid, until you looked into his eyes.  Those eyes were soft with emotion.  Aimed at him?

"You okay, Chief?"

"Sleepy..." Blair closed his eyes.  The pain meds they'd given him were beginning to kick in and he was tired.  "Why d'you call me 'Chief'?"

The older man shrugged again.  "I dunno.  I just started calling you that, and it stuck.  A nickname, I guess."

"Mmmm..."  Even Blair's yawn seemed fuzzy and Jim watched as the blue eyes dilated and unfocused.

"Go on, buddy, sleep.  I'll be here when you wake up," the detective whispered as he pulled the sheet up over his friend.  He noted the fine tremors still moving through the lean form and pulled the blanket up as well.

"...promise...?"

"I promise."

*************************

A nurse coming in to check Blair an hour later woke him from a light doze.  Sandburg was still asleep, hand gripping Jim's tightly.

The woman checked Blair's temperature and the fluid level in the IV bag.  She talked to him in a soft voice to wake him up then checked his pupilary response and the rest of his vitals.  So much about this reminded Jim of a similar time when Blair had been dosed out of his mind on Golden.  He'd sat a bedside vigil then, too.

'That's when I first realized how much I loved him...realized that I was in love with him,' he mused.  'Funny how things come full circle.  It was my love for him that led to this...'

He shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away.

"Jim...?"  A quiet voice, fractionally less hoarse than an hour or so ago.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"How'd...we meet?"

Jim blew air out through his mouth.  "Well, that's complicated, Blair.  Can you trust me to tell you the whole story later when you're a little more up to it?"

Blair stared into the cerulean gaze, caught in the tender light he saw there.  "Yes..." he whispered.

The nurse marked his responses and statistics on his chart, then looked up and smiled pleasantly.  "You're doing really well, Blair.  You're temperature has gone up another three-tenths of a degree.  Won't be too long before they'll let you out of bed."

"Can't...wait," he rasped quietly.

Jim stood up and stretched, aware of Blair's eyes tracking his movements.  "I need to get something to drink, Chief.  Do you want me to bring you anything?"  He turned to look at the nurse.  "Are there restrictions on anything for him?"

She pulled the chart from his door and scanned it.  "He can have warm liquids orally if he's awake and coherent."  She smiled at the two men.  "Looks fairly awake and coherent to me.  I'm Lila, by the way.  I'm your second shift nurse, Blair."

Jim smiled at her.  "Hi Lila.  I'm Jim."

"Hi...Lila."  Blair's cheeks puffed out then and Jim caught the sudden stiffness in his body as he tried to stifle the cough that accompanied the words.  Lila moved to prop Blair up slightly, making it easier for him to breath.

"Easy, honey.  You're okay...that's it, breathe slow..."

"Ji--"  Blair stretched a hand out to the older man, which Jim immediately grasped.  Lila gave the two of them a long look--which neither one saw--then turned back to fussing over the bed. She adjusted it so Blair was sitting up a little bit more.

"That should help.  Take nice, slow, shallow breaths, Blair.  Your body needs the oxygen, but you can't breathe too deeply right now."

"Lila, will you be with him for a little while?  I have to find Sergeant Koloski."  The detective suddenly remembered he was supposed to be helping the older man with information for his report.

"Yes, I'll be in here for a little bit.  I still need to do a few other things."

"Be...back soon...Jim?"  Blair gasped slightly, but didn't cough this time.

"I'll be back in just a few minutes, buddy."  He squeezed the cool hand in his, felt the tremor pass through it.  "I'll bring you back some tea or broth, how's that sound?"

"...good..."

*************************

Sergeant Koloski was waiting in the visitor's lounge.  "I'd almost given up on you," he remarked as Jim sat down across from him.  "How's the kid doing?"

Jim shook his head.  "The doctor and the nurse both said he's doing well, that he's so much better... He looks like death warmed over, to me.  You should have seen him yesterday morning, you probably wouldn't recognize him." He lost himself in thoughts about why there was such a difference, then shook himself.  "You said you needed information?"

"Yeah."  Koloski pulled his notebook out and settled back into his seat.

Jim watched him for a moment, bemused at being on the receiving end for a change, then settled himself back more comfortably.

*************************

Lila smiled at him from her seat behind the nurses' desk.  "He's asleep, Jim," she commented, shaking her head.  "Poor kid.  I have a son at home not much younger than him, I suspect.  Hits you hard, you know?"

Jim swallowed.  "Yeah, it does," he managed finally.  'How many times will we play out this scene?' he wondered.

"It's okay, Jim," she continued softly.  "He's going to be all right.  He looks like a strong man--like a fighter."

He stared at her, noting that she held the stare and returned it in measure.  "He is," he said finally, pulling his gaze from hers.

"Good.  Did you bring him something to drink?"  Lila indicated the two steaming cups he held.

"Yeah, the cafeteria had chicken broth."

"Wake him up and have him drink it.  His body needs the nutrition as much as it needs rest."  She smiled and turned back to her charts.

Jim watched her for a microsecond longer, then headed for Blair's room.

He stood in the darkened, quiet room just watching his partner for several minutes, listening to the sounds of Blair's body.  The well-known, much loved heartbeat sounded a little different just now, weaker, a little slower than usual.  The harsh, labored respirations  probably weren't as discernible to those who didn't have heightened senses, but to him the sound echoed in the quiet room.  He listened to the comforting thrum of blood moving through the weakened body, trying to push healing through the veins.

Blair smelled differently, too--a combination of odd smells, most of which permeated the hospital itself, clung to him.  Jim could smell the chemical and biological after-effects of Blair's body working to heal itself.  Although a hint of infirmity was tangible, there was also the fresh scent of wellness pushing through.  He smiled faintly then; perhaps Blair *would* be all right, just as Lila had said.

Six steps took him to Blair's bedside and he drew up the chair, settling himself in.

"Blair?  C'mon, Chief...wake up.  Snack-time, buddy."  Jim stroked his fingertips across Blair's forehead, having come to the conclusion that this was about the only part of his guide that wasn't bruised in some way.

"Jim?"  The younger man shifted as his eyes opened.

"Yeah, buddy.  C'mon, wake up.  No, don't move...just let your body relax."  He helped Blair shift slightly, so he was resting a little higher against the pillow.  "Want me to adjust the bed up?"

"Little bit..."

"Here," Jim handed him the broth.  "Lila says to drink it all-- you need the calories."

Blair looked down at his blanket-swathed form.  "How...can she...tell?"  he joked weakly.

Jim chuckled.  "Maybe from the sponge bath?"

"Haven't had...one."

"I know, you're gettin' kinda raspy, Chief."  Jim touched a finger to Blair's chin, intending only to lightly scratch at the stubble there; instead, he found himself gently stroking, the

feeling of soft/rough whiskers under his fingers a pleasant sensation.  He jerked his hand away when he heard Blair's heartbeat pick up--he didn't want to scare the man, or cause any kind of mistrust.  Blair believed in him right now; it needed to stay that way.

Sandburg reached a hand to hold the cup, then lowered his arm again, dismayed by how much he was shaking.

"S'okay, Chief, here."  Jim held the cup to the younger man's lips, encouraging him to take several sips.  He set the cup on the bed-table, then picked up his own coffee and took a big swallow.

"Can you...tell me...how...you...know me?"

"Are you up to it?"  Jim surveyed his partner doubtfully.

"Don't know...but we can...try."  Blair raised his eyes to Jim, large pupils staring out from a bruised face.  He rasped, "Please?"

Jim ran a hand across his face.  Christ almighty!  Kid had no memory of either of them, but he sure knew instinctively how to get around Jim, flash those puppy dog eyes at him.

"I met you because you're doing your dissertation on me."  Jim listened carefully for a moment, making sure no one was near the door.  "I have...heightened senses.  You called me a sentinel, said I'm a, and I quote, throwback to a pre-civilized breed of man, unquote."

Blair looked impressed.  "I...said that?"

"Well, you were quoting Sir Richard Burton, the explorer, when you told me that."

Blair watched the man sitting next to him, eyes flashing with intensity.  There was something drawing him to this man.  The touch of his hand a few moments ago had sent little sparks flowing through him, warming him faster than anything the hospital had been able to do so far.  He trusted this man, implicitly, for some reason.  There was something *so* familiar about him, which made sense, if they were partners.  Partners.  Now *that* was weird.  How could they be partners if he wasn't a cop?

And the way he looked at him, touched him, was there more going on between them?  He  flicked a quick glance at Jim's hands; they were devoid of any jewelry.

"Are you...married?...Am I?"

Jim was startled; this was a total non sequitur.  "Uh, no, to both questions.  Why?"

"Wondering...trying to...fill gaps."  Blair reached a hand for the cup on the table.  "Help me...?"

"Sure, buddy."  He supported Blair, then the cup, watched encouragingly as the younger man drank down more of the rich, warm liquid.

After that drink Blair leaned back against the pillows, exhaustion sweeping over his body.  He closed his eyes, not wanting Jim see the tears he could feel filling them.  His whole body ached, both from the bruises covering him, and from the constant tremors running through him as he warmed up.  Warmed up.  Hah!  Now *there* was an unlikely event.  'I've never felt so cold in my life,' he thought.  'Wonder if I'll ever feel warm again?' He felt one tear trickle down his cheek and turned his head to blot it on the pillow, allowing the weariness to envelope him.  Who was he?  Would he ever know?  Ever get his life back?  Ever feel *good* again?  It seemed as though his whole life was encompassed by pain and cold and fatigue.  Everything stopped and started with when he'd opened his eyes a couple of hours ago, with nothing but a black void behind him, and another one in  front of him.

No, not *just* a void in front of him.  There was Jim.  A stern face with eyes that were alive and soft and caring.  Eyes that said he *was* somebody; somebody who was cared about, cared for, that he didn't just emerge from a void.  Eyes that knew who he was, even if *he* didn't know who he was.  He moved his hand slowly until it was lying open, palm up.  Before he'd even completed the motion of turning his head to look at Jim he felt a warm--oh, so warm, so alive!--hand grasp his own, tighten around it reassuringly.  Feelings of comfort, security, safety, love, welled up inside of him and the tears spilled over in earnest.

"Hey, now, Blair?  What's wrong?"  The warmth, the caring in that voice washed over him like a soothing balm, calming him.

"Dunno..."  his voice was raspier than it'd been.  Tears, maybe? "Everything...nothing...I don't...know who I am," he finished in a rough whisper.  It hurt to talk, to breathe, to be alive.  "You tell me...but I...have no memory.  I believe you...because...I have no...choice.  I'm lost...and I feel...like you're the...only thing...anchoring me...right now."  He wheezed slightly, drawing in much needed air carefully, trying not to jostle anything.

"It'll get better, Chief.  I promise.  And I'm here.  Whatever you need, buddy.  You called me your Blessed Protector once, Blair.  I obviously screwed up with this one...but I'll try to make it up to you."

"What...happened?"

"What, to put you in the hospital?"  Jim squeezed Blair's hand at the younger man's nod.  "I don't know.  The state troopers who found you believe you were beaten.  No one knows how you got concussed--the doctor is hoping you'll remember so you can tell them.  The police are, too."

Blair frowned with Jim's words.  Beaten?  Surely he'd remember something like that, wouldn't he?  'Not that the memory is so great...'  He closed his eyes again.  He was so tired...

"Gonna...take a...nap...for a little...bit."

"Good idea, Chief.  Atta boy, close your eyes...I'm gonna go outside and call my captain, okay?  I'll be back in just a few."

"'kay..."  Blair was already sliding into the arms of sleep, cradled gently there.  His respiration evened out slightly, though not enough for Jim to believe he was resting easily yet.  He sighed quietly then climbed to his feet.  Time to let Simon know what was going on.

*************************

The next several days brought marked improvements all around.  Blair's body temperature evened out around 97 degrees, and the doctor told them he'd hit the so-called norm in the next day or so.  Meanwhile, 97 was certainly cause for celebration since it put him back into the 'normal' range.  Some of the swelling in his chest area decreased, enough so he was breathing a little easier.  After the third they took him off the oxygen, although it was available if needed.  The worst of the concussion was fading too, although Dr. Halings said he'd probably have headaches for a while to come.  Best of all, on the fourth day after hospitalization, he was finally allowed out of bed.

Four days of lying around had caused a considerable decrease in degree of mobility and a physical therapist was called in to help him get his muscles back in shape.  He still moved very stiffly, as everything ached, but the doctor and the therapist assured him that the more he moved around the easier it would get.

He hadn't regained his memory, though he'd had a few flashes that seemed to signal it was returning.  The hospital psychiatrist told him that it was not uncommon for victims of physical assault to suppress those memories, much in the way a rape victim or wartime vet would suppress painful memories. 'Trauma is trauma to the brain,' he'd told Blair.  'Your body needs to concentrate on healing, so it suppresses that which might hinder the healing process.  Give it time.'

**************************

Blair stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, gown off, looking at his bruises.  A lot of them had faded and the worst of the swelling had gone down.  His chest looked like a mad artist's palette, with the colors thrown around haphazardly.  Sickly yellow, some brown and black, an odd bit of violet and green.  His arms weren't much better, and his face... Well.  He was just grateful that Jim hadn't indicated he modeled for a living, 'cause he wouldn't for a long time, like this.

His nose was a little crooked now.  It had been fractured, like his ribs, though not badly.  His bottom lip was still puffy, and scabbed over.  The swelling around his eyes had gone down, but both had turned spectacular shades of purple, interlaced with green.  He knew he startled people who weren't used to seeing him--and a few who were.  He wondered where one of those people was right now and when the door opened as if on cue, he found himself wondering, not for the first time, if Jim Ellison was psychic.

"Chief?  You in here?"

He pulled the gown back on and opened the door.  It was a rhetorical question, he knew, since Jim had explained some of his abilities to him.  Still, it was a *common* question.  "In here, Jim," he rasped.  He was waiting patiently for his throat to heal enough to permit a normal speaking voice.  Dr. Halings said his larynx had been bruised and it was anyone's guess as to how badly, or how long it would be recovering.

The door opened and clear blue eyes regarded him.  "You okay?"

"Fine.  Just...checking things out."  He made his way gingerly back to the bed and settled himself.

"Dr. Halings told me she's going to discharge you in the morning."

"That's good."  Blair lay back on the pillows, anxious for the day when a trip to the bathroom didn't wear him out.  "I bet you'll be glad to get home, huh?"

Jim nodded, wondering when would be a good time to bring up the living arrangements.  He hadn't told Blair yet that they were roommates and he wasn't sure *why* he hadn't told Blair.  What was he waiting for?  Christmas?  It'd be here in seven more weeks, if he wanted to wait a little longer...  He shook his head when he realized that Blair had asked him another question.  "I'm sorry, what?"

"Have you talked to...Simon?...yet?"  Blair paused over Simon's name, wondering for the umpteenth million time when things would begin to seem familiar again.

Ellison sighed.  "Yeah, and he made phone calls for us.  Contacted your advisor and the department chair.  You've been granted an indefinite leave of absence as well as a deferral for your papers."  Here Jim shrugged, "Before you ask, I don't know what papers, Chief.  You don't tell me everything going on at the U.  As far as your dissertation, well, your advisor said that they'll wait and see how long it takes for you to get back on your feet and get your memory back before making a decision about that.  Either way, you're bound to get some time."

"And my job with you?  As your...?"  Blair trailed off, stumbling over the words. 

Jim sighed again, a bigger one this time.  "Well, your memories, or lack thereof, don't impede your actually *working* with me, at least not on the job.  And I'm not about to toss in my hat as far as the sentinel stuff goes, just because you got a memory block.  The doctors say that amnesia is rarely a permanent thing.  As soon as your body has recovered physically from the trauma you should be good to go, should start getting those memories back.  We know it's going to happen, because you've already had a few memory fragments surface."  He paused.  "It's gonna be a while though, before you're physically fit to go with me, Blair.  You'll *have* to stay at home for a week or two, to let your ribs and your head finish healing, at least."

"Are you going to stay with me?"  The question was asked in a very small, uneasy voice.

Jim winced slightly.  'Now's the perfect time to tell him,' his thoughts goaded.  'Go on...'  "Whatever you need, Blair.  Just let me know."

The younger man nodded, satisfied with the answer.

 *************************

It was a bright, beautiful autumn morning when he was discharged. Not at all typical weather for this state, this time of year. 'Now how did I know that?  A memory of actually living here, or just something I read from a book?' Blair sighed.  He was starting to second guess himself now and it was really beginning to him.  Jim looked up at him and frowned.

"You okay?"

"Fine, Jim," Blair replied absently as he watched Jim tie up his shoes. He was still too stiff and sore to bend very well, so Jim had volunteered.  His partner had also gone shopping for him when they realized he didn't have any clothes other than the ones the ER team had cut off of him.

"Uh-huh.  You 'bout ready to go?  Need anything else?"  The big man knew he was hovering, but having come so close to losing Blair,  he was finding it difficult, to say the least, to give him his own personal space.  Fortunately, his partner didn't seem to notice, or to mind.

"Nah, I'm done."  Blair rolled his eyes at the harsh rasp from his throat.  "Ready to play Frankenstein for the kiddies."  He wiggled his eyebrows in an attempt to look like a bad guy, causing Jim to laugh.

"C'mon, then.  Let's get you home."  Jim gestured grandly to the wheelchair sitting by the bed.

"Do I have to?"

"Hospital rules, pal.  C'mon, get in."  Jim saw Blair settled then leaned down to make sure the brakes weren't on.  His own breath caught in his throat when several locks of Blair's hair brushed against him.  He turned his head to find large blue eyes gazing inquisitively at him.  "Let's go," he finished hoarsely.  Blair nodded.

"Wait," he added suddenly as Jim moved the chair toward the door.

"What's wrong, Chief?"

"Nothing, just...wait a sec, okay?"

"Sure."

He didn't know how to explain it to Jim.  Although he was glad to be leaving the hospital, everything on the outside was an unknown.  *Everything*.  He had grown used to the staff here, and to Sergeant Koloski and Officer Jenkins who often dropped by to visit.  It felt like he was leaving the *one* place he knew, heading off into that void again.  A warm hand touched his shoulder, then rested there, squeezing lightly.  Blair tilted his head up to see Jim standing there, a look of understanding on the chiseled, handsome features.  *Handsome*?  Where'd that come from?  He raised a hand to grasp Jim's and returned the squeeze.

"All set to go now?"  Jim asked huskily.

"Yeah.  Let's do it."

 **************************

Blair managed to wait until they were out of Spokane before the question that had been bubbling inside of him since he opened his eyes to see Jim Ellison standing over him worked its way out.

"What are we--exactly--to each other?"

Jim started, the question catching him totally off-guard.  "What do you mean?" he questioned back.

Blair sighed.  "Are we, you know, involved?  Lovers?"

"Why...do you ask?"

Another sigh.  Man, getting an answer out of this guy was difficult.  What was he hiding?  "Because you've been sending me signals all week, but they're different.  Sometimes you act like we're an old married couple; other times it's like we're friends, other times it's somewhere in between.  I don't know how to respond anymore.  I'm attracted to you...but I don't feel like I can trust myself anymore.  I have no way of knowing if I felt like this before I lost my memory, or if it's because you're the *only* anchor I have in reality.  So I need to know:  are we lovers?  Were you just not telling me because of the amnesia, or what?"

Jim pulled the truck off to the side of the road and turned to face Blair.  He took a deep breath, considering what he should say, how he should say it.  'You could just tell him yes,' the little imp in his brain teased.  'He'd never know the difference.'  Until he regained his memories!  'But who knows when that might be.  Go on...what've you got to lose here?'  Only my best friend.  'Yeah, but think of what you're gaining!'

He drew another deep breath, not believing he was about to do what he was about to do... "Yes, we're involved...but it's a very new relationship.  I wasn't sure what your reaction would be to me telling you I love you--and didn't want to chance alienating myself from you while you were recovering."

Blair sighed in relief.  "I thought so.  Hey, man, that's cool.  I guess some things go deeper than memory, huh?"  The raspy voice sounded a little sultry now.  "Gonna be a while before I'm good for much...but it's nice to know."  He stretched out his hand, touched Jim's thigh, then smiled when large warm fingers twined with his own.  Everything suddenly felt right with the world.

Jim hoped that Blair couldn't feel his fingers shaking.  It seemed as if his entire body was shivering with emotion right now, most of it screaming at him, 'why the hell did you do that?'  He closed his eyes briefly, trying to see a way out of this.  The hand holding his squeezed and he opened troubled eyes to look at his partner.

"Jim?"

"Just thinking, Chief."

"Should we get going?  You said it's quite a drive back to Cascade, right?"

"Right.  Yeah."  Jim put the truck in drive and pulled back out on the interstate, every fiber of his being screaming at him over this deception.  What had he been thinking?  Wasn't it enough that it was virtually his fault that Blair had been injured, no, make that nearly killed?  Did he have to go and *lie* to him on top of everything else?  He shuddered slightly at the thought of what would happen when he told him the truth, and vowed to do it as soon as they got home.  He couldn't live a lie--why had he thought he could?

"Cold?"  Blair felt the shudder run through Jim's body through their clasped hands.

"A little, I guess."

The younger man scooted closer--as close as seatbelts would allow.  He laid his head against Jim's shoulder, then nestled a little closer as Jim stretched his arm over, cradling him.  "Mmmm...nice.  Jim?"

"Yeah?"  Oh, good.  His voice didn't shake hardly at all.

"Mind if I take a nap?  I'm--" his statement was cut off by a huge yawn, and Jim found himself grinning, "--sleepy."

"Go ahead.  I'll wake you when we get into Cascade."

"'Kay."  Blair closed his eyes and snuggled down a little, finding a comfortable position that didn't put too much pressure on his healing ribs.  The cab of the Expedition was soon filled with the quiet, even sounds of a healing sleep.

Jim found his fingers gently stroking the soft skin of Blair's shoulder where the two met, wondering at the trust his partner was showing.  *Did* Blair have feelings for him?  Did he have those feelings before his injuries?  Would he still trust Jim after he told him the truth?  He caressed Blair gently, wondering if he'd just eliminated *any* chance of ever actually having a relationship with his partner.

**************************

"Hey, sleepyhead.  Wake up, Blair."  Jim shifted slightly, helping the younger man sit upright.

Blair blinked owlishly at him, trying to clear his sleep-fogged brain and bring his eyes into focus.  "We there?"

"Coming into Cascade now."

"Wow, I slept the whole way, huh?"

Jim smiled.  "All four hours of it."  He paused, watching his partner looking at the passing scenery.  After several minutes he asked,  "Anything look familiar?"

Blair shook his head.  "No."  He gave Jim a half-hearted smile then turned back to the window, staring quietly.

"Chief.  Sandburg."  Jim stroked a finger down Blair's healing cheek.  "C'mon, look at me, okay?"

His partner turned, eyes bright with moisture.  "What if I never get my memory back?  What if nothing ever seems familiar?"

"It will, Blair.  I'll do everything in my power to see that it does.  C'mon, baby,"  Jim's heart rolled as he realized that the endearment had slipped out, but Blair either didn't notice, or took it for granted that he called him that, now that he "knew".

"You can't guarantee that, Jim.  No one can," he finished sadly.  "Not even the doctors could guarantee me that.  They only said  that amnesia *rarely* becomes permanent.  I have no sense of self, no sense of *being*.  I don't know who I am, or where I come from...I wouldn't even have a name if you hadn't cared enough to try and find me."

The last words were nearly swallowed by the sobs that had been building.  Jim quelled his own sobs and pulled Blair to him, holding him as closely as he was able with the seatbelts in the way.  One hand remained on the steering wheel, the other tangled gently into soft curls.  "It's okay, Blair.  I'm here for you...I'm not leaving you...we'll find *you* again, buddy.

Just takes time...please, shhh...."

He murmured the words over and over until the smaller body in his arms began to settle down, sobs giving way to the occasional sniffle as Blair got himself under control.

"You okay?"  Jim asked when he released the younger man.

"I don't know.  I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread here.  But I guess so," he sighed finally.

"Let's get home and get you settled and we can discuss this further."

"You said you're gonna stay with me, right?  How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long can you stay?"

Jim clenched his fists on the steering wheel.  "We live together, Chief."

Blair stared at the man sitting next to him.  "*How* long did you say we've been involved?"

Oh, Lord.  "We've lived together since, I don't know, since a month or so into our partnership.  You used to live in a warehouse; you'd converted some of the space into living quarters and used the rest for projects.  The warehouse was also being used by a local gang for a drug lab, and the building was blown sky-high one night because of a gang war."  Which wasn't the whole explanation, but enough for the moment.

"And you let me move in."

"It was supposed to be a temporary thing, you were only going to stay for a week or so.  Somewhere along the way it just kind of rolled over into weeks, then months.  You've lived there for nearly two years."

"Wow."  Blair smiled.  "Convenient, huh?  How come you didn't tell me before?"

"I was afraid," Jim said, very softly.

"Of what?"  A puzzled frown greeted him when he looked up.

"I don't know.  Didn't want to spook you."

'Spook you.' Those words seemed familiar for some reason.  Blair closed his eyes, trying to grasp the elusive memory, groaning in frustration when it slipped past him.  "Dammit!"

"What's wrong?  Blair?"

He shook his head.  "I think it was a memory trying to catch my attention," he said ruefully. "I guess I wasn't ready to play ball."

Jim nodded toward the window.  "Anything at all look familiar out there?"  They were further into the city, turning now onto Cascade Boulevard.  Almost home.  Almost time to tell the truth.

Blair shook his head silently, his eyes speaking volumes for him.

**************************

Jim parked the truck in the small lot next to the building.  The Corvair, which had been towed back to Cascade courtesy of the police department, was parked in its usual spot.  Blair walked past it without a word, until Jim stopped him.

"How d'you like the car?"

The younger man turned and looked at it.  "Nice.  Whose is it?"

"Yours."

The smoky-blue eyes grew wide and he darted over to it in excitement.  "How long have I had it?"

"Beats me, Chief.  You had it when we met.  That's all I know."  Jim walked over to him and put an arm around the lean figure.  "Let's go inside.  It's getting chilly out here, and you're not healed yet, no matter how good you feel."

"I don't *feel* all that great," Blair retorted with a touch of spirit.  "You do, though..."  he leaned in toward Jim as if to kiss him, but the bigger man pulled away.

"Let's get inside first, okay?  There's a few things...I need to tell you."

'That sounds ominous', Blair mused as he followed Jim into the building and up the stairs.  'God, nothing looks familiar.  *Nothing*!'  His--friend?--stopped in front of a door on the third floor and fumbled in his pocket for keys.  Blair leaned against the wall, watching him, wondering what Jim needed to talk about--about them, obviously--that hadn't been covered.  A new relationship, he'd said.  Maybe they weren't 'out'.  Jim was a cop after all, a detective, no less.  A relationship with another man would be a big deal even if they weren't public about it.

The door swung open and Blair was pushed gently inside.  He looked around the room, trying to decide if the comfortable feeling inside him came from *remembering* this place, or if it was just because he knew from Jim that it was his home.  He shrugged mentally.  Whichever it was, he didn't care.  At least he felt like he belonged here.

"Sit down," Jim said.  "I'll get you some tea."

"Tea?"

"Hot tea.  You drink a lot of herbals.  I know where you keep your 'stash', so this won't take long."

"Okay."  Blair moved toward the sofa, taking time to run his gaze over all aspects of the room.  He shivered briefly and hugged his arms around himself.  In spite of having maintained a 'normal' body temperature for a couple of days now, he was still easily chilled and sat down still wearing the heavy sweater Jim had gotten for him.

"Hang on a sec and I'll build us a fire."  Jim set the kettle to boil then headed for the fireplace.

"You don't have to do that, Jim.  Come sit with me?"  Blair patted the cushion next to him in invitation.

"In a minute, Chief."  He quickly built a fire, ignoring Blair's protests that it wasn't necessary, then returned to the kitchen to make tea, now that the water kettle was boiling.

Blair watched the activity, glad on one hand that Jim had ignored him about the fire; the heat felt good and he moved to the end of the sofa to greedily soak up as much as he could.  On the other hand he couldn't help but feel like Jim was putting off telling him something unpleasant; something he was certain he wasn't going to want to hear.

"Here you go," came the warm voice above him, handing down a steaming mug before seating himself on the couch.

"Mmm...thanks.  Um, peppermint!" he said with some surprise after taking a careful swallow.

"Yeah, that seems to be your favorite."

"Thanks, Jim."  He set the mug down and moved closer to the big man.

"Blair...there's something I need to tell you."  The detective shifted away uneasily, finally standing up to pace.  This was going to be awful.  What on earth had possessed him to lie about something so crucial?  To lie at all?  He was about to destroy the best friendship he'd ever had.  'Not to mention all the trust you've worked so hard to build for him.  You're the center of his world right now.  He's trusted you for over a week now, to know all about him, know what to say and do for him.  He's alone, scared and vulnerable and you're going to blow his trust in you sky-high in one minute when you do this.'

"Jim?"  Blair's voice was quiet, hesitant.  Almost scared.  "What is it?"

"I--wasn't quite straight with you.  I lied to you, in fact."

Blair felt his stomach drop to his toes.  "About what?" he asked carefully, hoping his voice wasn't trembling as much as it sounded.

Jim closed his eyes.  Jesus, this was hard. "About...about us."

"What about us?  What'd you lie about?"  the younger man sounded confused and hurt, as if the one constant he'd known was being taken away, which, of course, it was.

Jim flinched when he heard that word from Blair's mouth.  "About *us*, Blair.  We're not involved, never have been.  We're just friends.  Best friends."  'Probably won't even be that, now.'

"Then...when you said you love me...?"

"That's true," Jim managed to push out, a rough, ragged sound.  "I've been in love with you for a long time."  God, this was like deja vu.  "That's how all this--" he gestured wildly, taking in Blair's injury and their present situation, "--happened.  I told you I was in love with you, and you freaked.  Turned around and walked out of the loft."  Jim began pacing, hoping the motion would help.  "I didn't hear from you again until I got the call the next morning that you were in Spokane General Hospital, under the name John Doe."

Blair exhaled in a gasp.  "What else have you lied to me about?" he questioned in a rough whisper.

"Nothing else, I swear."  He could hardly stand the pain shining in those vibrant eyes; closed his own against the tears shining there.

"Why?"  Blair's voice was ragged with emotion.

"I don't know."  His own voice wasn't much better.  "I guess...I love you so much, Blair...I just wanted it to be true.  And when you asked me it just seemed...natural...to say yes; maybe because I've wanted it for so long..."  He paused then, not sure what else to say, but knowing he had to say something.  "I wish like hell I hadn't lied to you." 

Blair stared at him for a long moment, naked vulnerability in his eyes.  "I don't know what to say."

Jim whirled before Blair could see the tears shining in his eyes.  That was it then.  Just like that it was over.  "I'll understand," he began, before his voice cracked.  He stopped and tried again.  "I'll understand if you don't want to live with me anymore...but I hope you'll stay until you get back on your feet.  I--"  His voice cracked once again, and he stopped, trying to decide what else to say.  The silence spread out, encompassing the loft.  Jim focused on it, listening intently.  He could hear Blair's heartbeat, hear the still slightly ragged breaths his partner took.  He stood there, his back to the man he loved, listening, waiting.

Blair watched Jim pace the living room, not quite believing he was hearing the words he was hearing.  Jim had *lied* to him?  About something so crucial, so important?  He shook his head, trying to decide what to do, what to say.  The impulse was to leave, but he had nowhere else to go.  Jim's words echoed in his mind, 'You left then.' Why had he left?  For the same reason he wanted to leave right now?  Because he was afraid of confronting those feelings?  Or maybe because they were such a shock to him?

He knew he was attracted to him; he was also starting to really care for the guy.  He only wished he knew for sure if those feelings were what he *really* felt, or just a spillover of his reaction to everything.  Of course, even if that were the case, did it invalidate those feelings?  He still cared for Jim--a lot.  And if he was very honest with himself, he was probably falling in love with him. 

His emotions were all screaming betrayal though, in light of Jim lying to him.  Why hadn't he just come right out and said something like, 'we've been roommates for almost two years, but I'm in love with you.'  Would that have made it any better?  Worse?  Made any difference at all?  Why had Jim been so fearful of him finding out?  Was he, Blair, strictly heterosexual?  He didn't think so...the thought of being in a relationship with a man seemed just as normal, or natural, as being in a relationship with a woman.  So what was the big deal?

He sighed.  Damn, why this, now?  He was tired and hungry and he ached all over.  His mind was still full of the thoughts he'd had earlier in the day about stepping out into a void that contained nothing he was familiar with.  On the other hand, it took an incredible amount of courage to stand there, knowing what this could do, or mean, to him and still do it.  Wanting to make it right as soon as possible.  He looked at the man standing across from him, back toward him.  A man standing very, very still...

"Jim?  Hey, Jim, are you okay?"

He'd been on the verge of a zone-out, concentrating so hard on Blair's heartbeat that the quiet voice directly behind him surprised him, but not as much as the arms that suddenly went around his waist.

A shudder ripped through him at the touch of Blair's warmth against him and he swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay.

"I've really screwed things up, haven't I, Chief?  I don't know if you can forgive me for lying...but I hope we can still be friends, and that you'll trust me again someday."

Gentle hands turned him around until Blair's chest was pressed against his own.  His own arms came up to hold the smaller man close, savoring the moment.

"It's okay, big guy.  Well, I mean, it's not *okay*, but I think I understand the motivation behind it.  I can't say I'm crazy about the fact that you lied to me...but you came clean about it, man.  That means a lot."

"If you need somewhere else to stay, I'm sure Simon would--"

"Jim.  I don't want anywhere else to stay, especially not with someone I don't remember, don't know, for all intents and purposes.  I'm fine here.  Just...don't do it again, okay?  I can handle it once, maybe, but not twice.  Don't tell me anything that isn't the gospel truth, please."  Blair's voice was rough and raw, shaking slightly with the emotions surging through him.

Jim held him tightly, hoping this was really going to be okay.  He was on the verge of fucking up all aspects of his life majorly if he didn't watch it.  He was still astounded that Blair hadn't run for the door; never mind that he seemed to want to stay. 

He shook his head, deciding to leave it alone.  If Blair said he was okay with it, then he ought to be able to be as well.  Wait a minute.  The conversation of the last few minutes finally processed.  'Big guy'?

"Blair, you called me 'big guy' a minute ago."

A raspy voice from his chest muttered, "So? So what?"

"That's what *you* call me."

Blair was silent for a minute, then the significance of what Jim had just said hit him.  "I do?  Oh, man!  D'you think this means I'm getting my memories back for real?"

Jim rubbed Blair's back, taking care to do so lightly.  "I hope so, buddy.  I hope so."

~~~~~

Jim pulled the blanket over Blair, smiling at the innocence on the sleeping man's face.  He frowned then at the hitch in Blair's breathing as some silent pain worked its way through his system.

They'd stood there in the living room, holding each other, giving comfort to one another, for endless minutes.  The phone ringing had forced them to separate and by the time Jim got off the phone with Simon, Blair was yawning hugely.  Jim reacquainted the younger man with the basics in the loft, then got him settled comfortably in his own bed before leaving to meet with Simon.  Blair had been asleep before he left the loft; by the time he'd returned his partner was caught firmly in the sandman's grip.

Shaking his head at the sight of the bruised, but still beautiful face, Jim tucked the blanket in a little more, then went upstairs to his own bed.  It was still fairly early, barely nine p.m., but it had been a hellatiously long eight days, starting with Blair's disappearance, and he was tired.  He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

*************************

What was that noise?  Jim pulled himself up from the deep sleep he'd been in, cop instincts and sentinel senses on full alert.  He was reaching for the gun under his pillow when he realized that it was Blair climbing up the stairs.

"Sandburg!  What the hell are you doing?"  He double-checked the safety on the weapon and shoved it into his bedside table.

"I...w-woke up...I d-didn't kn-know where I was. Jim...I--"

Jim could hear the younger man's heart racing, heard him swallow nervously.  "You got scared, didn't you?"  At the younger man's nod he scooted over a bit and patted the bed next to him.  "Come on in."

"Thanks, Jim."  Blair slid under the covers, sighing as the heat from Jim's body enveloped his own.  He instantly felt safe and warm, protected.  Even the blank spots in his memory couldn't overpower this.

Jim sighed as Blair's racing heart rate slowed down.  He could still feel tremors coming from the lean figure and decided he wasn't going to get to sleep until Blair was warmed up as well.  "C'mere, buddy,"  he rolled over, moving back toward his partner.  Blair shifted toward him, then turned onto his side.  Jim spooned behind him and wrapped an arm across the narrow waist.  Blair sighed and snuggled backward, melting into the blessed warmth.

"'Night, Jim," he whispered in a drowsy voice.

"'Night, Chief," Jim whispered back, nearly asleep himself.

*************************

Blair was already up and out of bed when Jim woke the next morning.  He pulled on sweats against the chill in the air and headed downstairs.  His partner was curled up on the sofa leafing through photo albums.

"Hey," he called on his way to the bathroom.

"Hey yourself," Blair responded, not looking up from his pictures.  "I made coffee--you like it strong, right?"

Jim heard the waver of uncertainty in his friend's voice and smiled.  "Yeah, I do.  Thanks.  Have you eaten?"  Nature's call appeased, Jim returned to stand behind the sofa, peering at the albums.

"Uh-uh.  I only got up half an hour ago.  I woke up around six--guess I was used to the nurse coming in to check on me."  A small grin flashed across Blair's face and Jim felt an answering one spread across his.

"What sounds good?"  Jim hoped he could tempt the younger man into eating since his appetite was still lagging.

"Nothing, right now.  I'm not hungry."  Blair shook  his head and gestured toward the pictures.  "Do you know these people?"

Jim stared down at several pictures of Blair with a small group of people, none of whom he recognized.  He felt a small growl forming in his throat at the proprietary way one of the people, a young man who looked to be Blair's age, had an arm around his friend.

"Jim?"

"Huh?  Oh, sorry.  No, I don't know any of them.  Although I think I recognize this one," he pointed at a picture of an older man.  He'd seen the guy around the anthro department a few times, though he'd never talked to him.  "Do *you* recognize any of them?"

"Yeah, I think so.  I just wanted to ask you to see if I was right."

"Well I'm sure we can find someone who can tell us if you're right.  Who do you think they are?"

Blair pointed and rattled off some names.  "Micky, Sharon, Nissa, Paul, Dr. Blain and Alex."  The pointing finger lingered briefly over the man he'd named as Alex--the fellow with his arm around Blair--and Jim felt an absurd surge of jealousy rising in him.  He pushed it down with effort.

"Maybe someone in the anthro department will know.  I've seen Dr. Blain around a few times--but I didn't know his name."

"No," Blair muttered as he turned the page, "it's okay.  I know these people.  This was from a trip to Western France four years ago--we went to check out one of the digs where they'd uncovered some bones that were believed to be an early form of Homo Erectus or maybe...it was too weird to think of finding those in France."

Jim had moved around to sit on the couch next to Blair, intrigued by this glimpse into his friend's past.  "And were they?" he asked gently, not wanting to stop the dialogue.

"No..."  Blair shook his head and looked up at Jim.  "No, they weren't."  He glanced back down at the pictures.  "Alex and I were..." he trailed off and looked back up.  "We were...involved, Jim.  I dated him for over a year.  Thought it was serious, until he decided he liked blond women better."

The older man closed his eyes, uncertain what to say.  He opened them when a finger poked him in the chest.  "What?"

"Does that bother you?  Knowing I've been with other men?  Or," he amended, "at least one other man?"

"No."  Jim answered curtly, then sighed and added, "Well, yeah, I guess it does...I don't know, Blair.  Hell, you're an adult.  What you did before I knew you--"  he broke off, not knowing where to go with that.  It wasn't like they were involved right now.  "I'm going to make some breakfast," he finished gruffly, not wishing to pursue that line of thought any further.

"Jim?"

"Forget it, Sandburg.  You want anything?"

"I...guess so.  What are you going to have?"

"Bagels," Jim threw over his shoulder.  "There isn't much else in the house.  We'll have to get groceries later today.  Or," he amended, looking at his partner's still-injured form, "I will.  You'll stay put here."

"I don't want to stay put.  I need to get out, go looking around.  See what I can remember."

"You're not going to help yourself if you tire yourself out to the point of getting sicker.  Dr. Halings said you need to rest.  You're out of the hospital, buddy, not well."

"I don't know what to tell you to make you understand how scary this is," Blair said quietly.  "I've lost *myself*, Jim.  I have no sense of who I am.  I need to look around, see what I can find."

"Can't you just go through the stuff in your room?  God knows, you have enough junk in there."

"That's not going to take long."

Jim sighed.  "Let me get something to eat and we'll deal with the rest of it later, okay?  This is too much to face, so early in the day."

Blair nodded at him, blue eyes wide and troubled in the beautiful face.

************************

In the end, Blair went with Jim to the grocery store.

'I'm a fool for letting him out like this,' Jim berated himself as they headed down Prospect street for the supermarket.  'He should be home, in bed, or at least on the couch, not out wandering the streets like a healthy person.'

Healthy or not, even without his memory Blair had done a good job of pleading with those incredible eyes of his until Jim couldn't remember how to form the letters that made up the word "N-O".  He sighed and cast a sideways look at his partner.  Blair had hardly moved his nose from the window in the ten minutes they'd been driving.

"Hey, Jim, where'd I live before I moved in with you?"

"In a warehouse down on Sexton Place.  Why?"

"Can you drive by it?  I'd like to see if it jars anything."

"I don't think there's anything left of it, Chief.  It was just so much rubble after the explosion; the city had plans to bulldoze it, last I heard."

"Please?"

Jim sighed.  'Why do I even bother with saying 'no'?'  He turned the vehicle onto Mountain View and began heading west into the city.

**************************

"You're right," Blair said with a defeated sigh as they pulled into the Shop-a-Lot parking lot.  "Just a big, empty lot that didn't trigger anything."  He heaved another sigh and Jim had to fight the urge to pull Blair into his arms.  His partner said he felt an attraction to him, but what did that mean, really?  He sighed in frustration over what might have been and parked the truck.

"I don't know what to tell you, Chief," he said as they started meandering slowly through the grocery store.  "I think you're trying too hard, though.  Give it time-it's only been a little over a week.  It's not like you've been out of touch for months...and you've evidenced that some of the older memories are returning."

"I guess."  Blair shrugged and guided Jim over toward the produce section.

This was interesting to watch, Jim decided, as Sandburg began picking his way through the fruits and vegetables.  He knew that Blair didn't have much conscious memory of likes and dislikes, but the subconscious was doing a pretty good job.  So far he'd picked all the usual stuff, plus some of the things that he liked that weren't so usual, like passion fruit and watercress.

"I think we'll pass on the kiwi, Jim, 'cause it looks like it's about a year or two past its prime," the smaller man muttered as he moved down the aisle, stopping to grab a couple of onions.

"Fine," Jim answered lightly, certain that Blair wasn't even aware that he'd "remembered" that one of Jim's favorite fruits was kiwi.

They cruised through the grocery store with Blair never once faltering on a food choice, until they got to the meat section.  He paused over the selection of chicken and beef, hand hovering in indecision.

"Do I...?" he muttered quietly, as though asking himself.

"Mostly chicken, but we have beef a couple nights a week," Jim offered, unable to stand the lost expression in his friend's eyes.  "We eat a lot of pasta, too.  Primavera or salad style, usually," he continued.

Blair's eyes locked on to his own, pulling him into their depths.  "I remember that," he offered softly.  "You like my spaghetti sauce...and my primavera."

"Yeah," Jim answered just as softly.  "I do."

Blair caressed Jim's face with his gaze, sweeping back and forth, lingering for a moment on the sensual-looking lips before returning to the pale blue eyes that seemed to have grown brighter.

"What do we do," he began carefully, staring directly into Jim's eyes, "if I never get all of my memories back?"

Jim stared back, mesmerized by the depth of emotion contained in those eyes.  He chose his words just as carefully.  "No one was able to give you a for-sure on that, Chief.  You may get them all back tomorrow."

"Or not at all,"  Blair retorted, finally moving from the spot next to the meat counter.  "You didn't answer the question."

"What if we give you some time and see where it goes?  You might wake up tomorrow, all memories restored, good as new."  'Not likely, but possible,' his mind retorted. 

"Dr. Halings said--"

"Sandburg, will you leave it *alone*?  Please?  We can discuss it at home, but not here, okay?"

"Fine."  Blair tossed several packs of chicken into the basket and headed away from Jim. 

The big man watched his friend go, listened to the muttered epithets as Blair cursed Jim, himself, and the tricks of fate that had brought this situation to pass.  He followed, feeling inutterably sad.  How did you fix something that was broken when you didn't even know where to look for the pieces?

                                                ****************************

The next week was tense and awkward for both men.  Jim wanted to help but Blair wanted to do things for himself.  That left Jim frustrated and Blair overtired and upset, which in turn made the younger man withdraw into himself.

Jim went back to work five days after Blair returned home, actually grateful to be able to do that.  Blair wouldn't let him help with anything and it was getting to be more than he could stand to just sit around watching the younger man pouring over notebooks and scrapbooks and photo albums, trying to recapture the past.

                                                ***************************

The upside to that was that the memories *were* beginning to return, slowly.  Dr. Halings had told Blair when he was discharged that she felt a lot of the memory loss was traumatic in nature, meaning that when Blair's body had a chance to rest and heal, his mind would follow suit.

He had no recent memories though, unless you counted three years ago as recent.  He'd read through the notes he'd accumulated on his sentinel research, including the notes he'd made since working with Jim and determined that he'd been interested in sentinels for a very long time; where'd he'd first read about them escaped him, though he knew that Burton's work figured very heavily into that.  Why had he been reading anything by Burton, though?  The last memory he had involved trying to pick an actual field of anthropology to specialize in and nearly going with physical, as opposed to cultural.

Blair sighed and shook his hair out of his eyes.  He'd been reading over his journals for the last three hours and his back was beginning to cramp from sitting in one place for so long.  His stomach growled too, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything in a long time.  He shifted to stand up and his eye caught the entry below where he'd been reading:

_"March 30, 1996_

_I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to live here like this.  It's getting harder and harder to be around Jim and not show how I feel for him.  Of course this brings into play all sorts of questions about ethical issues--how ethical is it to fall in love with your research subject?  Certainly puts a slant on how I see things, I'm sure.  I wonder if I can continue with this project, knowing that I have a bias like this?_

_I've pushed these feelings back and away for so long that it feels normal now to ache constantly for him.  Hell, I'm not even talking about sex necessarily, although I'm about as horny as a sixteen year-old right now.  No, I'm talking about the emotional closeness.  We've achieved some of that--I'm sure that Jim hasn't let anyone in as close as he's let me, in years.  I want to be closer, though.  I want to be able to hold him when I'm sad--or when he is.  Comfort him when he's had a bad day; snuggle up against him when we watch the ball game.  I want...something I've never had with anyone else before: love."_

Blair stared at the journal, read the words over and over again.  'I was totally in love with the guy.'  He looked up and found his gaze drawn out the window to the ocean he could see in the distance.  He let himself out onto the balcony and stayed there for a long time, trying to remember loving Jim Ellison.  Oh, he was fairly certain he loved him now, but that wasn't the same.  *He* wasn't the same, at least not in some fundamental ways.  God, he couldn't even remember what some of his notes meant without cross-referencing them.  'Can I let myself love him, knowing that the me that loves him now is different from the me who loved him before?  He says he loves me...but does he love the Blair he sees now?  What happens if we start a relationship like this...and I change when I get my memory back.  No, why would I?  I loved him before.'

"Damn," he sighed.  This wasn't fair.  All these feelings and thoughts and no one to ask about them.  He couldn't remember if he had any close friends anymore; all he could remember was Jim.  'Almost like I didn't have a life before Jim, though I know I did, 'cause I can see the evidence of it here.'  He glanced down at the journal still held tightly in his hand.  Shit.  His stomach growled again and he looked at his watch, surprised to find it was nearly six o'clock.  Where was Jim?  Should he make dinner?  Wait?

A key turning in the lock alerted him to his roommate's return and Blair headed back into the loft.  He was struck with a sudden, odd, impulse and when the larger man cleared the door Blair launched himself at him.

"Oof!"  Jim staggered back slightly, his arms coming up around the slighter frame.  "What's up with you, Sandburg?"

"I don't know," the smaller man said, his face resting against a strong shoulder.  "I just had the urge to hug you, man."

Warm arms squeezed, then held him for a moment, then released him.  "You okay, Chief?"

"Fine," Blair answered automatically, it being mostly true.  He stepped back when Jim's arms let go of him.  "Mostly fine, I guess.  I don't know anymore.  I feel like I've got a thousand questions burning inside my brain, but I don't know where to go with them, or where to find the answers."

"Find anything useful today?"

"Yeah...I found some of my old journals."

Something in Blair's voice made Jim look up.  His friend had retreated to the couch, so Jim followed, uncertain if he was going to want to hear what he was going to hear.

"And?"

Blair shook his head.  "I don't know.  The Blair then is so different, but so like the me *I* know..."

It was Jim's turn to shake his head.  "Sandburg, deep down inside you're still *you*.  This hasn't changed you that radically."

"I don't know, man."  Blair tried a shaky smile at Jim.  "I didn't get dinner ready yet and I'm starved.  How about if we go for a walk and get something to eat out?  I haven't been out all day and I'm starting to go stir crazy."

Ellison shrugged.  "You're sure you're up to it?  It's colder than hell outside."

"Mid-November tends to be like that," Blair responded as he stood up.

"Yeah."  Jim got up too, put his coat back on.  "Y'know, Thanksgiving is only a week away.  What'd you want to do?"

"What do we usually do?"

Jim frowned.  "Well...last year we went to Simon's...but I think he's going to his folks, with Daryl, this year.  Feel up to cooking dinner?"

Blair arched a brow.  "What'd you have in mind?"

"Just the two of us--"  He caught the look on Blair's face.  "Never mind," he finished, the ache inside settling into him like it was meant to be there.  He'd hoped to have Blair by his side as his life partner this year; that had been his Thanksgiving and Christmas wish last year. This was it, then.  His penance for daring to want something that could never be his.

"No, man, that's cool.  Just the two of us?"

"Yeah...if that's okay?"

"Better than okay, Jim.  It's great."

"It is?"  Jim stopped in front of the door and stared at Blair.  "You're sure?"

"Yeah!  It'll be a blast--we can get a real turkey and have leftovers for days."

"You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely.  Now, can we go feed me for real?  All this talk about food is making me even hungrier."  His stomach growled on cue and Blair grinned at his roommate, suddenly glad that he'd found that journal--it would at least give him a guideline.

                                                *****************************

They found themselves walking in Rainier park, enjoying the quiet of the park at nighttime.

"I thought the park closes at dusk," Blair commented as they strolled through the trees.

"I thought it did, too.  I don't know."  Jim shrugged, showing he didn't think it was important.  "How do you feel?"

Blair started to give the pat answer, then stopped and considered.  "My headaches are nearly gone.  I mean, I still have them, but they're not as bad and don't last as long.  I'm nowhere near as stiff as I was, either.  Moving around is easier.  I still feel chilled most of the time, but I'm starting to think that's my imagination."

Jim nodded.  Blair had come up to sleep with him five times in the past week; generally he claimed bad dreams, but the shakes that wracked the younger man told Jim that at least part of it was a bone-deep inability to *really* feel warm.  Personally he didn't care how long it took Blair to feel warm again, he enjoyed having the smaller man cuddling close to him.  Of course, that raised a whole other host of problems and questions, but he wasn't going to worry about it right now.

"You look better," he said finally, studying his partner with a critical eye.  "The bruises are gone; at least to regular vision," he stated, inferring that *he* could still see some.  "You don't look quite as tired, either."

"I'm not.  I've been sleeping a lot, after you go to work."

"I'm glad to hear that."  Jim continued to study him as they walked.  "How about your ribs? You took the bandages off, didn't you?"

Blair shrugged.  "They were uncomfortable.  I think they're pretty well on their way to healing...I just have to remember not to move real fast and to brace myself before I laugh or sneeze."

Jim smiled with that.  "You don't sneeze that often," he teased.

"No, but when I do, it's usually a doozy!" 

Blair slowed his pace fractionally; Jim adjusted his to match, his sensitive ears listening for changes in Blair's vitals that would indicate distress of any kind.  After a long moment he detected an increase in breathing that seemed to warrant attention and he smiled gently at Blair.  "Need to rest?"

"Yeah, I could stand to sit for a minute," Blair nodded and let Jim lead him to the nearby bench.

It was quiet in the park; dark, still, silent.  Their breath hung in the air, moisture caught in the cold air, trapped in front of them.  The moon was out and shining brilliantly, illuminating everything like daytime.  The cold air around them seemed to blanket them somehow, as they sat there on the bench, staring at each other.

Blair studied Jim for a moment.  "I'm glad you missed me," he said finally.

"What?"

"That day that the accident happened.  I'm glad you missed me.  No one's ever gone looking for me before."

"Not even your mom?"

Blair shook his head. "Naomi did things differently than most moms," he offered.  "She figured I was out looking at the world, learning from it, and I shouldn't be bothered by insignificant things like having to let her know where I was, stuff like that."

"That's awful!"  Jim was shocked.  "Does that mean that she was negligent?"

"No, just that sometimes she saw things in a different light."  Blair shook his head.  "I don't want to discuss that," he said, seeming unaware that he'd just had a very significant memory.  "Just--thanks.  For looking for me, for getting me and taking care of me...for caring about me."

Jim leaned in a little, his breath a warm puff against Blair's cheek.  "It's nothing you have to thank me for, Chief.  I do it because I want to...because you're important to me."  Because I love you.  The words hung in the air between them, unspoken but known.

Blair raised a hand, slowly, tentatively--almost asking permission.  "I haven't ever had anyone care for me as much as you do," he whispered, voice hoarse.  "It makes me feel...humble."  His hand rested on Jim's chest, fingers curled inward, a loose clutching motion.

"I don't mean for it to," Jim told him, leaning in a little closer.  "I want you to feel comfortable.  Loved."  There.  He'd said it.

"I do.  But what about you?"

"What about me?"

Blair managed to shrug without dislodging his hand.  "I don't really know how I feel about you..."  He trailed off.  "I know how I *felt* about you, before," he breathed, his pulse quickening when Jim brought his own hand up and covered Blair's that was still resting on the hard chest.

"How was that?"  Jim's voice was husky and deep; eyes brilliant in the moonglow.

"I...I was in love with you.  Found it in my journal today..."  Blair let his voice trail off when Jim brushed a thumb across his lips.

"What about now?"

"I don't know how I feel right now, Jim.  I-I'm confused...scared...I don't want to make you love a person who isn't who you fell in love with...even if I look the same, I'm different, now."

"Not at the basic level," Jim shook his head, the finger that had been stroking his lips now sliding into his hair, stroking the soft strands that curled around Blair's face.  "You're still Blair.  *My* Blair."  He leaned forward, closing the miniscule gap between them, breathing the last words against Blair's lips.

With a tiny sob from the back of his throat, Blair leaned into Jim, pressing his lips against the warm, strong ones that were so close.

Their lips met in that gentle kiss, barely touching, breath warm against the other's.  Jim nuzzled his way across to Blair's ear, then drew the younger man down against his chest, his lips still tasting the scent and flavor of his partner.

Blair sighed and wrapped his arms around Jim, pulling the larger body close against his own, holding on tight.  "I don't know what to say," he mumbled sometime later.  "I don't know what to do."

Jim kissed his ear, then gave the lobe a quick lick, tongue playing with the small silver hoops there.  "Just go with the feelings," he said.  "Let yourself relax and the rest will come."

"It doesn't bother you?  That I may never remember who I am?"

"You'll remember," Jim promised, tipping Blair's head back.  He stared at his partner for a long moment, asking permission with his eyes.  It was granted the same way and he closed the distance between them again, lowering his mouth to Blair's.

It was a deeper kiss this time, their tongues searching, tentatively, tasting each other.  Blair moaned low in his throat, the feel of Jim's lips on his driving him crazy.  He opened his mouth a little wider, inviting the bigger man in.  Jim intensified the kiss for a moment, sucking on Blair's tongue, then pulled away.  Both of them were breathing hard, faces flushed in the cold.

"Let's go home and finish this discussion there.  It's too cold out here."  Jim set Blair back away from him.

The younger man stood, legs shaky.  "I'm not cold at all," he stated, grinning at Jim.  "Pretty warm, matter of fact."

  

  1. "Me, too, but this is hardly the place..."  Jim trailed off when he realized how he wanted to finish that sentence, 'to make love to you'.   "C'mon, Sandburg, let's go home."
  



"Sounds good to me, man."  Blair held out his hand and let Jim pull him up.  They both withdrew into themselves then, considering what had just happened, and were quiet for the walk home.

******************************

They were nearly back to the loft before Blair found the courage to ask, "How many men have you...been involved with?"

Jim turned, surprise on his face.  "Why?"

A gentle shrug, motion carefully controlled so as not to hurt healing bones.  "Just wondering.  Wondering how much either of us knows about this."  Wondering what 'this' was, exactly.

"One other.  He was...we were lovers in college."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

Blair screwed his face up.  "Oh, man...don't tell me you don't know--?"

"Know what?  How many men you've been with?"  At Blair's nod, Jim jerked his head roughly in an imitation of a head-shake.  "Sandburg, up until I saw that picture you showed me last week, of you with that kid's arm around you, I'd never suspected you'd been with anyone other than women."

"So I haven't dated any guys since living with you."

"Not to my knowledge." Jim's answer was short, sharp.  Blair turned to him in surprise.

"You're jealous?  Of a man I can't even remember?"

"Could be 'men'," Jim answered, trying to relax.  He sighed.  "Hell, yes, I'm jealous, Chief.  Of anyone and everyone you've been with before, including women.  Anyone that wasn't me."

Blair glanced up in surprise when a door opened, not realizing they'd reached the building.  He stepped inside, Jim following behind him.  "You don't have to be jealous, man.  I look at you and can't even picture wanting anyone else."  He kept his eyes trained on Jim through his lashes, wanting to be able to gauge the bigger man's reaction to his words.

Jim was quiet for the entire trip up the stairs to their apartment.  He opened the door, let Blair in, then shut it quickly.  "You want me?" he asked hoarsely, as soon as the &lt;snick&gt; of the lock filled the air.

Blair swallowed.  "Yeah," he muttered quietly.  "I want you."

Jim turned Blair back against the door, gently pressing the smaller body against the hard surface with his own.  He placed his arms on either side of Blair's head and bent his own to brush a soft kiss across sensual lips.

Blair moaned softly and tilted his head upward, increasing the angle and the pressure of Jim's lips against his own.  He opened his mouth, allowing Jim's questing tongue to slip inside where he teased it with his own, playing a sexy little game of tag.

They backed off with a mutual, silent agreement, breath coming in harsh, fast pants.  Jim stared at Blair, seeing arousal and desire in his eyes...seeing love.  He smiled at Blair, leaned his head down again to capture a willing mouth in a rougher kiss, this one full of nips and tiny bites.  Jim moaned when Blair slid his hands upward, fingers caressing through the soft wool of his sweater.  Those hands clasped around Jim's neck, pulling him closer, before moving back downward.  Warm hands slid under his sweater then, fingers tracing ribs and muscles with single-minded focus.  Jim groaned and deepened the kiss when Blair's fingertips danced across his nipples, teasing them to full, aching points; tiny erect nubs that screamed to be plucked, rolled and suckled.

"Not here," Jim managed in between tiny kisses across Blair's jaw and throat.  "Come upstairs with me?"

Blair drew back, not very far with the door right behind him.  "You sure, Jim?"

The larger man took Blair's hand in his and drew it down to the erection throbbing behind denim.  "I'm sure.  Feel how sure I am, baby.  That's for you...that's how much I want you."

"Oh, God, Jim--"  Blair's eyes were wide, trusting, full of need and confusion.  "Man, I want you, too...but is this a good idea?  Ohhhh..." He moaned when Jim's teeth fastened on an earlobe and tugged gently, the sensations sparking straight to his groin.

"It's a *great* idea, Sandburg.  Trust me on this one, okay?"  Jim breathed the words into Blair's ear, tongue rimming the edge as he spoke, then pulled back to see his reaction.  His partner nodded, eyes dazed and glazed over.  "Good," he muttered as he backed away.  "Come on.  Let's go get comfortable."

                                                ***************************

'Comfortable', Blair thought while lying in the big bed watching Jim undress, 'isn't quite what I'd call it.'  His erection throbbed heavily against the sheet he'd pulled over himself against the chill.  Jim's body was a work of art, he decided, watching it unveil.  He was much too turned on to be very comfortable, not to mention the aches and pains from a body not yet totally healed.

"I don't know if I can do much," he whispered when Jim slid in beside him.  "My ribs are still sore..."

"We don't have to do anything at all, Chief.  I just wanted us comfortable if we *do* decide to do anything."  Jim rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow.  He trailed a finger lazily down Blair's nose before circling the full lips.  "It's criminal that anyone could do this to you and get away with it."

"They were going to leave me to die," Blair muttered, sighing when the finger continued to outline his mouth.  He made a tiny noise in the back of his throat when the finger pulled away unexpectedly.

"What?!"

"What, what?"  Blair opened eyes he didn't remember closing to look at Jim.

"You just said they were going to leave you to die!  You remember something?"

Blair concentrated on what he'd just said and the thoughts swirling around his head.  "Noooo..." he drew out, finally.  "I don't really *remember*, not everything anyway.  Just that fragment.  They were going to leave me to die."  He said the words again, softly, and shivered.

"Oh, baby," Jim sighed in sorrow and frustration.  "C'mere."  He pulled Blair gently into his embrace.  "I wish I could just hit a button and bring your memory back, Chief.  "I wish I could find whoever did this to you and give them a little taste of their own medicine."  The larger man shook his head.  "I hate that someone hurt you and I can't do anything about it."

"It's not your fault I don't have any memories to give you," Blair ventured, snuggling further into the warm arms.  He sighed in pleasure when Jim bent his head slightly to nuzzle at his hair.

"Let's make some new memories, then," Jim whispered into the ear closest to him.  "I love you, baby, so much.  Let me show you how much, Blair."

"Oh yeah.  I'm all for hands-on demonstrations..."  Blair tilted his head back, mouth inviting Jim's kiss.

It was a sensual kiss, meant to entice and seduce.  Jim opened Blair's mouth slowly with his own, slipping his tongue in and out, gliding across the tops of Blair's teeth and over the roof of his mouth.  He sucked on Blair's tongue, then stroked it with his own, feeling each tiny taste bud.  The sides of Blair's cheeks and gumline got the same treatment before Jim pulled back, licking the corners of Blair's mouth before sucking the full lower lip into his mouth.

He gasped in surprise when fingers pulled at his nipples; Blair smiled against his mouth before opening further to deepen the kiss.  Jim shuddered as talented fingers coaxed his nipples into fully erect buds, the sensations being relayed instantly to his cock, which responded in kind.

"Touch me, baby," he gasped, drawing one of Blair's hands down to where his cock was throbbing uncomfortably.  A ragged breath exploded from him when warm fingers gently touched him before wrapping snugly around his heated flesh, exerting firm pressure before stroking him.

"You feel so good, Jim," Blair moaned, arching his head back, baring his throat to the teeth that were nipping there. "God, you feel good."  The younger man continued to stroke the hard cock in his hand, his own cock twitching in anticipation.

As if Jim was reading his thoughts a large warm hand slid down him to wrap around his straining erection.  Blair's breath exploded from him in an audible gasp.  "Ohhhh..."

Jim stilled instantly.  "You okay, Chief?"

"Fine...don't stop...Jesus, Jim, don't stop!"

Ellison chuckled and bent his head back down to lick at the tempting nipples that were standing at attention for him.

"So...the nipple-ring thing *wasn't* all talk," he murmured as he teased the erect nubbin and bit of jewelry with his tongue.

"No--" Blair managed, arching instinctively into the touch.  "Owww!  Shit!"  He groaned and moved backward, body shaking suddenly with pain rather than passion as he pushed his newly-healing ribs beyond their limit.

"Blair!  Oh, god, baby--are you okay?"  Jim pulled away instantly, his body curved protectively over the smaller man's.

"Fine--" Blair panted harshly, trying to quell the spasms racing through him.  "God, that's a mood wrecker," he muttered, his body beginning to relax.  His erection had faded when the pain ripped through him.

"Doesn't matter, as long as you're all right."  Jim shook his head, settling himself next to Blair.  "You are, right?"

"I'm fine, I just pushed too much."  Blair shifted gingerly, settling himself.  "Will you...kiss me again?"

"I don't know if I should lay a hand, or anything else, on you right now."

"Come on, Jim."  Blair ran his eyes down his partner's body, assessing.  Jim's erection was still very much evident.  "Kiss me...touch yourself.  One of us should be able to enjoy this."

"Blair--"

"I'm serious, man.  There'll be other times for me, won't there?"  His eyes were suddenly serious, a little concerned.

"There'll be a *lot* of other times, for both of us, love."  Jim scooted closer, moving up next to Blair's body.  He groaned when the younger man shifted so he was slightly higher than him, then leaned down and kissed him.  Blair's hair fell around them like a curtain and soft lips moved over his, tasting and arousing.

"Touch yourself, lover," Blair whispered against his lips.  "Touch yourself and imagine my hand there...picture your hand stroking me.  That's it--" He watched Jim, his own body growing warm again from the erotic tableau before him.  "Slow down, babe...we're not in a hurry here..."  Blair leaned back against the pillows, curling in against Jim's body.  "Stroke yourself...slide your hand up and down...cup your balls with your other hand..."  Blair broke off and kissed Jim again, his own breathing quickening as he watched Jim pleasuring himself, obviously getting off on his words. 

The bigger man's body was taut with desire now, cock hard and drooling, as pre-cum welled up from the tiny slit on the crown.  "Oh, god, you're beautiful, Jim!"  He leaned back over to kiss the larger man, his own body rousing again as desire replaced the memory of pain.

"Come...with me," Jim panted, his body arching and tightening under his hand.

"Not this time, lover, but I'll enjoy yours."  Blair stroked his hand down Jim's chest, pausing to play with the hard nipples he found there.  He pinched gently, knowing that Jim's heightened sense of touch/feeling would increase the sensation.  A low groan pulled his gaze from the tight little buds and he watched, desire curling through him, as Jim's cock stiffened visibly, then spasmed, thick, creamy fluid shooting forth.

"God, Blair...I wanted...I--"  Jim lay back on the pillow, his breathing hard and fast, his heart pounding.  He'd wanted it to be together, both of them for each other.  Not alone...not like this.

Blair leaned over again and kissed Jim gently.  "I know what you wanted, lover.  I don't think I can do it until I'm healed better, though.  I enjoyed watching *you*, though."  He smiled, almost shyly, at Jim.  "You're beautiful."

Jim growled playfully, rolling toward his lover.  "You're stealing my lines, Sandburg.  You're the beautiful one."  He lowered his head and kissed Blair thoroughly, until the younger man was breathless.

"Says you," he managed after a minute.  "Listen to us," he laughed.  "A couple of love-struck teenagers."

"That's us," Jim agreed affably.  He sighed, content, and drew Blair closer to him.  "Love you, Chief."

"I know," Blair said quietly, wishing he had the courage to say it, as well.  Wishing, once again, that  his memories hadn't been stolen from him, so he could say and know that *he* meant it.  The Blair Sandburg before his accident had loved Jim.  He wanted to be that Blair Sandburg again.

He cuddled into Jim and fell asleep to the comforting touch of gentle hands stroking his hair.

***************************

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and clear, no trace of the storm that had dumped an inch of snow on them last night.  Jim rolled over, shielding his eyes from the glare feeding through the slats of the shades.  Where was Blair?  He took a deep breath, then smiled when he realized what the tantalizing aroma floating through the loft was:  Turkey.

"Hey, babe," a mischievous voice called up to him.  "You awake yet, man?  It's getting late, here."

"I'm up, Sandburg," Jim growled, grinning in spite of himself.  "Besides, you're the one who kept me up all night."  Literally, his mind added.  He'd come three times last night, twice from Blair's talented mouth.  It bothered him that Blair still wouldn't let him do anything more than just stroke and kiss him.  He was starting to wonder if there had been sexual assault along with the rest of it--his subconscious would remember, even if his conscious mind didn't, but wasn't sure how to bring it up.  How did you ask a person about one memory, when they'd lost all of them?

"Jim?"

"Coming, Chief."  He sighed in frustration, rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, then climbed out of bed.  It was warm in the loft, probably from the oven going, so he pulled on a lightweight pair of boxers and headed down the stairs.

At the bottom of the steps he paused, his mind trying to take in the vision of Blair moving around the loft, nude.

"Mornin', babe," the younger man called when he saw him.  "Got breakfast ready for you."

"Chief?"  He was surprised his voice worked.

"Yeah?"

"Either one of us is over-dressed, or one of us is under-dressed.  Which is it?"

"Oh, yeah."  Blair's gaze fell and he looked at himself.  "Had a little accident with the pumpkin pie I was making."  He looked back up at Jim, eyes twinkling.  "I just haven't gotten dressed yet again--felt kind of loose and free, y'know?"

"What kind of accident?"  Jim was still staring, his body reacting to the sight of his lover's...though it was a sight he knew well, now.

"I was turning to put the pie in the oven and my hand slipped.  Splash!" Blair's arms gestured enthusiastically.  "I got pumpkin mix all over me.  I'll have to start all over," he added mournfully.  "Can't have Thanksgiving without pumpkin pies."

"If you say so, Sandburg."  Jim gritted his teeth, trying to will his growing hard-on away.

"Oh, I do.  But anyway, we were talking about breakfast, right?"

"You were," Jim mumbled as he stepped down the final step and moved over to the couch.  "I've got other things on my mind right now."

Blair grinned at him, eyes obviously having found what the 'other things' were.  His eyes darkened and dilated. "I can help you with that, you know.  I was kinda thinking of a high-protein breakfast drink, anyway."

"Only if we both get them," Jim managed, his body throbbing at the look in Blair's eyes.

"Yeah, I was thinking that reciprocity is a good thing, when you're talking breakfast."  The voice was low and husky and Jim felt it thrum through him.  "Come on," a gentle touch on his arm pulled Jim from his daze and he got up to follow Blair into his room.

His *former* room, Jim reminded himself sternly.  Blair hadn't slept there in a week now.  After that first night together, abortive as the attempt at love-making had been, Jim had helped Blair move most of his belongings upstairs, wanting the younger man close by, always.

"Sides or top/bottom?"  Blair sat down on the small bed, pulling Jim to stand between his legs.  He eased the boxers over his lover's hips,  taking time to stroke a finger up and down the hard shaft; then leaned over and sucked the tip into his mouth, running his tongue across the head.

"W-what?"  Jim arched toward the warmth of that incredible mouth.

"I thought we could try out two of my favorite numbers...do you want sides or top and bottom?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Sandburg?"  Jim clenched his fists to his sides, fighting the urge to grab Blair's head and shove his dick into that incredible mouth.

"Sixty-nine, man."  Blair blew a warm puff of air across the saliva-slick cock and Jim hissed through his teeth.  "C'mon, Ellison, make a decision."

"Which'll be easier for you?"  Wow.  A whole, complete sentence and he didn't even stutter.  Miracles never ceased, he mused distractedly.

Blair shrugged carefully, then grasped Jim's cock in his hand and started stroking roughly.  "I don't know...sides, I guess."

"Sounds good to m-m-me."  Jim shuddered when Blair gave him a lingering tongue caress.

"Fine."  Blair released Jim and laid back on the bed, his own cock jutting upward.  He smiled at Jim, a hot, sexy smile that made the blood pulse through Jim's body that much faster, then rolled onto his side.  "Come here, lover.  I want to taste you."

"God, I love you," he groaned, leaning down first to claim his partner's mouth in a fiery kiss.  Another groan rose from him as Blair returned the kiss with fervor, and he backed off to climb onto the bed, settling carefully next to Blair.  He pulled the smaller body close to him, then took Blair into his mouth, tasting him for the first time.

The flavor of Blair exploded across his tongue, bitter from the pre-ejaculate already beading up on the tip; salt from the same, and the sweat of Blair's body; heat from the internal source.  The cock in his mouth was smooth and bumpy all at once, pounding, pulsing, *alive*, under his tongue.  He groaned and opened his mouth, taking Blair in to the root, sucking hard.

"Oh, *GOD*!" The exclamation was muffled, but heartfelt nonetheless and Jim was inordinately pleased.  He slid the throbbing organ from his mouth and repeated the motion.  Blair made pleading little whimpers above him while sucking on Jim's cock, and the resultant vibrations had Jim clenching his muscles to keep from coming too soon.  "Let it go, lover," Blair mumbled, pulling back from Jim's erection to place several little nipping kisses on his thighs.  "Don't try to sto--oh! Oh, *yeah*..."  Blair pushed himself against Jim, sighing when the older man took him root deep again, tongue caressing as he took him in.

Jim arched toward Blair's mouth when he felt a warm tongue licking his balls, then warmth surrounding them totally as Blair sucked first one, then other other into his mouth.  He growled low in his throat when that mouth released him, taking his cock again, drawing on it slowly, almost teasing.

Then the time for teasing was past as both men were pushed past their limit.  Blair grunted and thrust himself into Jim's mouth, releasing his seed in thick, creamy spurts.  Jim swallowed it down, felt his own release threatening.  He let go of Blair, afraid he'd hurt him, then yelled, "BLAIR!" as he poured himself into Blair's mouth.

They lay there for several minutes, hands gently stroking each other's heated bodies, calming rapid heartbeats and breathing.  Jim sat up and shifted around so he could lie next to Blair.  He pulled the younger man into a loose embrace, kissing his sweaty face, brushing his hair back.

"That was...incredible."

Deep, dark blue eyes opened wide to regard him.  "Glad you liked it."

"Didn't you?"

"Did it seem like I didn't?"  Blair countered, leaning in to kiss Jim, long and lingeringly.

"No...but you don't seem much like you enjoyed it, now."

"Just catching my breath, big guy."  He hugged Jim close, his hands stroking slowly.

A large hand tilted his head back.  "Happy Thanksgiving, Chief."

A slow smile appeared that turned Jim's insides to mush.  "To you, too, Jim."  He snuggled close for a minute, then sat up, his hand pressed to his side.  "Ouch."

"Blair?"

"Just a twinge, Jim.  Nothing to worry about."  Blair got off the bed and leaned down to press a quick kiss on Jim's forehead.  "You got dibs on the shower, big guy.  I gotta get that other pie made or we'll *never* have it with dinner."

Jim feigned shock.  "Blair Sandburg, *giving* me dibs on the shower.  I have to write this day down somewhere.  You feeling okay, Chief?"

His lover turned and actually leered at him.  "Better than okay, man.  Catch you in a bit, okay?"  Then he was gone, the soft sounds of humming floating back to where Jim lay, still off-balance from earlier.

He stayed there for several minutes, replaying the whole scene in his mind.  Blair had seemed...comfortable.  More at ease.  And definitely setting the pace of that encounter.  Where had that come from?  His body was still tingling, his taste buds still awash in the scent and taste of Blair.  A smile spread across his face as Jim considered that possibly a Blair who was more comfortable with him--more comfortable with having sex with him--might also mean that he was getting more comfortable with his feelings for Jim.  Maybe this would be a good time to say a prayer of thanksgiving after all.

*************************************

Christmas was less than a week away.  Jim shook his head, wondering how time had passed so quickly that a holiday like that could sneak up without him being aware, then he realized that he'd been unaware of the passage of time because he was so immersed in Blair that nothing else was getting through.

His lover was slowly regaining his memories.  Blair still chafed under the idea of not 'knowing' everything about his past, but he was calming down about it, somewhat.  The more he healed physically and mentally, the faster the memories were returning.  He still had large gaps, the most prominent being earlier memories of Jim, and the whole time frame surrounding the accident that caused this.  He'd been in contact with his advisory committee and the dean of the natural sciences department and had been granted administrative leave until the new semester began in January.

'A lot can happen in six weeks,' he'd told Jim, the day after Thanksgiving, when they were discussing it.  He'd been referring, of course, to regaining his memories, or at least enough of them to continue teaching and working on his dissertation.

"Jim?"

He looked up from his reports, startled into awareness by the familiar voice, which rang out in the nearly-empty bull-pen.

"Blair?  What're you doing here?"

The younger man shrugged.  He'd been staying away from the police department because it was too awkward right now--how did you explain to people who knew you just a few weeks before that you had no memory of them now?

"Got tired of knocking around the loft by myself, decided to go for a walk."

"That's eight miles from home to here, Chief."  Jim raised his eyebrow.

"I didn't say I walked it *all*, man.  Just that I wanted to go for a walk.  I took the bus most of the way."  He grinned impishly at Jim and was rewarded by a flare of heat in the older man's eyes.  Glancing around quickly to ascertain no one was close he leaned in a little and whispered, "I missed you, lover.  Come home?"

Jim sucked air in quickly, trying vainly to stifle the erection that was suddenly pressing insistently against his slacks.  He cast a quick glance at the clock and saw that it was nearly four p.m.  "I can probably get out of here a little early," he mumbled, rising to his feet.  "Want to come in and say hi to Simon?"

"Nah, I'll just sit here," Blair shook his head. Simon was one of the ones that Blair still felt a little uncomfortable being around; mostly his memories of the large man involved his early days with Jim, when Simon wasn't very receptive to his presence.  So, for now, he minimized contact with him.

In moments like that, Jim reflected, Blair *was* a different person.  There was so much about him that was unchanged: mannerisms, speech patterns, vibrancy.  Most of the time Jim could almost forget that Blair had giant holes in his memory.  Then he'd ask about something, or make a comment about something that was totally off, and Jim would have to remember.  He sighed and headed for Simon's office.  A rap on the door brought a "Come!", and he headed in, casting one last look back at Blair.

"Jim?"

"Hey, Simon.  Was wondering if I could take off a little bit early?"

"What's up?"

"Blair came down, and--"

"Ah."  Simon leaned back in his chair.  "He still doesn't want to see me, does he?"

Jim shook his head.  "I'm sorry, sir, it's--"

Simon waved his explanation off.  "It's okay, Jim.  I know that things aren't all back to normal, yet."  He looked at his best detective, standing quietly in front of the desk.  "Why don't you take the next couple of days off?  Then you've got that, plus the weekend and Christmas...spend a little time with the kid."

"Sir?"

"Families should spend time together at the holidays, Ellison."  Simon gave him a brief smile.  "Regardless of what form 'family' takes."  He motioned toward the door with his head.  "Go on, get out of here."

Jim smiled.  "Thank you, Sir."

"Merry Christmas, Jim."

"Merry Christmas, Simon."

******************************

"So just like that he gave you the next four days off?"  Blair sat next to Jim, his feet tapping an impatient rhythm on the floorboards of the truck.

"Just like that, though technically it's not four days--the weekend's in there, too."

"Still.  That's cool, man."  Blair turned and looked out the window, humming "Deck the Halls" under his breath.  Jim cast a glance in his direction, the calm mien didn't hide the suddenly increased heart rate or breathing.

"Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, man.  Everything's fine."  Blair refused to meet his eyes, continuing to stare out the window.

"You can't lie to a sentinel, Blair.  What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, man.  Seriously."  Blair flashed a smile at Jim and reached over to squeeze his thigh.  "You know, you're awfully sexy when you're scowling at me, big guy."

Jim laughed and the tense moment was defused.  "You're a little shit, Sandburg."

"Thanks, man.  I know a compliment when I hear one."  His heart rate picked up again when Jim pulled into his parking spot.

The smell of pine hit him even before they made it all the way up the stairs and Jim dialed down on his sense of smell quickly.  He opened the door to find an eight foot blue spruce sitting in the corner next to the fireplace.  A Christmas tree.

Suddenly aware of the total silence behind him, Jim turned to his partner, catching a look of hope and uncertainty on his face.

"I...couldn't remember if you...if *we*...celebrate Christmas...but I had an idea that we do, so I--"

Jim pushed the door shut with his foot and pulled Blair into his arms.  "It's great, baby.  Great."  He lowered his head and kissed the smaller man, his mouth devouring Blair's slowly and gently.

When he released him sometime later, the world was spinning around him in a dizzying mix of colored lights and sounds.  He shook his head to clear it, wondering yet again about the effect that kissing Blair had on him.  "I love you," he said quietly to Blair, stroking the dark curls that were so soft to touch.  He knew the words wouldn't be returned; not as long as Blair's memories continued to betray him.  He also knew that Blair loved him as well...it was evident in the things he said and did.

His partner pulled back from him.  "I looked around for decorations, but couldn't find any."

  

  1. Never.
  



"Jim?  Jim--air, man!  I can't breathe...Jim!"  Blair pushed against Jim's chest, wondering what was going on in his lover's brain to crush him suddenly.  "Jim!"

"Sorry, Chief," the detective released him quickly when he realized he was suffocating Blair.  "Sorry.  Want to go shopping, get some stuff for the tree?  We could grab a quick bite out."

"Sounds good, man."  Blair turned to move out of the loose circle holding him, then turned back to press a quick kiss on Jim's lips.  "Thanks."

"For what?"  Jim asked, baffled.  He watched Blair pull on heavy gloves and a hat.

"For not being mad."  Blair gestured toward the tree then opened the door.  "That's a hell of a shock to come home to, man."  He took a deep breath, "I wasn't sure how you'd react...I was hoping you'd like it."

"I love it, baby.  I love you.  Now, c'mon—let's get the shopping done, before every person in the Cascade Metro area gets off work and does the same thing."

"Gotcha, big guy."

 *****************************

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

Jim sat bolt upright in bed, echoes of the scream floating around in the dark of the loft.  He immediately saw his partner, arms clutched over his face, heart pounding from terror.

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!!  Please..."  The ragged whimper, on top of the terrified scream, propelled Jim into action. 

He leaned over and gently stroked Blair's forehead, smoothing strands of hair away from the sweaty skin.  "Blair?  C'mon, baby, wake up.  C'mon, Blair..."

Wordless whimpers and small cries tore at his heart.  The rapid, harsh pants as well as the pulse that was racing out of control scared him.  He shook Blair slightly, pulling on his arms.  "Come on, Sandburg.  Wake up.  Come on, Chief...that's it...wake up..."

"Jim?"  A small whisper in the dark, then a shaking body was clutching around his neck, holding on to him like it was life or death.

"I'm here, Chief,"  Jim scooted backward, gathering Blair into his arms, holding him tightly.

"Oh, Jesus.  Jesus Christ.  Oh, god..."  Blair mumbled the words over and over, his breath still hard and fast.  "It was...they were...there were three of them, Jim, and they were going to kill me..."

His blood ran cold in his veins.  "You had a memory?"

Movement against his chest signaled a yes.  "I was...oh, god, Jim...they...I...they robbed me...then..."

"Shhh, love...you're okay.  Shhh..."  He stroked Blair's hair, a calming, soothing motion. "I've got you, baby.  Nothing's gonna hurt you now."

Blair continued to huddle against Jim, his body tense and trembling with fear.  Jim could feel the wet heat against his bare skin where tears fell; heard the harsh sounds as the sobs were pulled up from the depth of Blair's soul.  He continued to rub the younger man's back and stroke his hair, murmuring quiet, soothing noises.

After a while the sobs abated and Blair's body relaxed a little, though he was still tense in Jim's arms.  He lifted his head toward Jim and sought the larger man's mouth, tongue searching for warmth and comfort.

"Love me, Jim.  Just a little...take that memory away..."

"I do love you, Blair.  I do..."  Jim rolled them over, until they were laying side-by-side.  He continued the kiss that Blair had started, deepening it by opening his mouth wider, inviting Blair in to play.  Their tongues slid against each other, moving restlessly, offering an exchange of taste and touch.

Blair's mouth was hot and sweet, though Jim could still taste salt from the tears shed earlier.  He ran his tongue across Blair's teeth, grunting when they bit down gently, trapping him.  He broke the kiss then and began trailing kisses across Blair's jawbone, pausing to nip and suck at intervals.

"You feel so good," Blair whispered, his hands caressing the broad expanse of Jim's back, stroking the naked skin.  He arched, tilting his head back, offering the soft skin of his throat.  A low, hoarse groan fell from his lips when Jim bit down sharply before licking at the tender spot, easing the sting.  A sucking kiss followed, Jim marking his territory.

"I love how you taste," Ellison mumbled against Blair's throat.  "I love how you feel, pressing against me.  I can feel your cock, the blood moving through it."  He paused to suck an earlobe into his mouth, running his tongue over and around it, bathing it.  Blair groaned again and slid his hands down to cup Jim's ass, pulling him closer.

"I'm hard for you, lover," he whispered into Jim's ear, his own tongue running around the inside.  "Can you feel how hard I am for you?"

"God, yes," Jim groaned, grinding his own pelvis against Blair's.  He began moving in a determined rhythm, pressing his own erection against the cock that was throbbing against him.

Blair growled low in his throat and hooked a leg around Jim's waist, bringing their bodies better into alignment, letting Jim move them.  He gasped, then groaned when Jim's lips grazed his nipple, tongue twisting in the gold ring there.  "Suck it," he whispered, his breath coming hard.  "Suck my tit, Jim," he moaned again when a hot tongue lapped at him. He pressed one hand to the back of Jim's neck, guiding him.  "Ohhhh...god," he managed hoarsely when teeth gently tugged on the tiny nubbin. Vigorous suction followed and he saw stars when the nipple contracted, the ring through it tugging at the tissue.

Jim started with pleasure when Blair ran his fingers up and down his cleft, one finger pausing to rub over the tiny pucker hidden there.  He moaned against Blair's chest when the finger retreated, a quiet "Shhh," telling him it wasn't over yet.  A soft sucking noise caught his attention and he raised his head to see Blair sucking his finger, wetting it.  He moaned again, this time in pleasure, when the finger probed into his anus.

"God, baby," he groaned, his lips caressing Blair's chest, suckling the hard nipples. "Oh, yeah..."

Their movements against each other became more frantic, more charged.  Jim lowered his head to capture the nipple ring again, tugging a little more roughly. Blair cried out and arched against him, wet warmth spurting between them.

The smell of Blair's orgasm, combined with the feel of it against his skin and the sensation of his lover's finger in his ass pushed Jim over the edge and he pushed himself down against Blair, spilling his own seed over them, mixing it with Blair's.

They lay together for a little while, enjoying the feel of the other's body against their own, basking in the post-orgasmic glow.  Jim slipped out of bed and got a wet cloth to wipe them down, pressing a gentle kiss to Blair's forehead when he murmured a quiet complaint.

"We'll sleep better if we're not sticking together," was the soft response to Blair's protest.

By the time he returned to their bed, Blair was drowsy again, moving sleepily into Jim's arms when the bigger man turned to cuddle him.

"...so good to me," the younger man sighed as he slipped closer to sleep.  "Thank you..."

"My pleasure, baby.  I love you," Jim whispered into soft curls.

"Mmhmmm..."  Blair sighed once more before turning into Jim, sound asleep again.

****************************

When morning rolled around, Jim was awake and waiting for Blair to awaken.  He'd been startled awake by his own dreams around 4:30 and been unable to go back to sleep.  A re-run of "A Christmas Carol" on TV had kept him semi-occupied while he waited for a decent hour to wake his partner.

Blair came staggering down the stairs shortly after 7:00a.m., looking like death warmed over.

"Morning, big guy," he called as he headed for the bathroom.

"Morning, Chief.  Want any coffee?"

"No," the answer floated back to him.  "Jim, man, we need to talk."

"I know.  We will."

Jim poured himself a cup of coffee and headed back to the couch to wait for Blair's return.  The younger man appeared in short order, still scrubbing at his face with his hands.

"I had a memory fragment last night," he began.

"I know," Jim reminded him.  "You scared the hell out of me, screaming."

"I'm sorry."  Blair flushed in embarrassment.  He dropped onto the couch next to Jim, facing the older man.  "It was..." he shook his head, unable to articulate it.  "I don't remember everything, just these two guys pounding on me.  They didn't want to stop; they were having too much fun."

"What else do you remember?"

Blair shook his head.  "Nothing, beyond that.  I mean, I know they planned to leave me for dead...but I remembered that a while ago."

"Remember what they looked like?"

"No."

"But there were two of them?"

"Yes."  Blair looked down at his lap, then back up at Jim, his expression troubled.  "I wish I could remember more..."

"I do too, so we could get the bastards that did it."

"Jim...this was nearly seven weeks ago.  Even if I remembered everything in the next ten minutes, how much of a chance do you really have of finding them?"

Ellison closed his eyes.  "Not much," he admitted, opening them again to gaze into Blair's.  "I'm sorry, Chief.  So sorry that this happened."

"Why are you sorry?  I mean, besides loving me and all that," Blair smiled at him.

"It's my fault you ran out; that you were driving around in the first place.  I told you that."

"Yeah, you did, and I don't agree with you.  No one told me to take off especially not without the cell phone--" he broke off as a strange feeling swept over him.  He could see himself in his mind's eye, driving down the road, watching the gas gauge on the Corvair drop below empty...

"Blair?"

"Huh? Oh...man, that was weird."  He shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Another memory fragment."  Blair shrugged.  "Maybe it's the season," he joked.  "All these memories at once."

"Or maybe you're finally healed enough for your mind to feel comfortable remembering."

"Maybe."  Blair slid across the couch to kneel next to Jim.  "Morning, Jim," he breathed, leaning toward the bigger man.

"Morning, baby," Jim responded, his lips already opening for Blair's kiss.

It was a hungry kiss that culminated with them lying on the couch, tongues thrusting in imitation of sex.  Blair stood up and shucked his shorts off, then pulled Jim's off as well.  He straddled the bigger man so that Jim's erection rubbed against his cleft, teasing both of them.  He stroked his own aching cock in time with their rocking motions, groaning loudly when Jim raised his hands to pinch at erect nipples.  Blair leaned down to kiss Jim again, his mouth hot and demanding.  Jim submitted to the kiss, letting Blair take control of their love-making.  He groaned when Blair abandoned his position and slid down Jim's body, lying atop him.  They rubbed frantically, their mouths echoing the hunger, until both of them spent; warm, thick liquid mixing between their bodies.

"Mmm...nice way to start the day," Blair snuggled against Jim's chest, tongue flicking over the nipples that were still hard with excitement.

Jim wiggled under him.  "Don't go starting anything again," he warned.  "We both need to shower and get dressed and get something done with that tree."

"What, me start something?  Perish the thought."  Blair gave him a wicked grin, then shifted off him.

"Right.  Don't try to play innocent with me, Sandburg, it won't work."  Jim swatted at the tempting ass that Blair wiggled toward him.  "Don't tempt me either, Chief.  I may have to take you up on that offer."

"In your dreams, Ellison," Blair thew over his shoulder as he sauntered down the hall.  He stopped and turned around.  "Your call...if you catch me..."  He waited about two seconds for it to register with Jim, then headed for the bathroom.  Jim was there before the door was shut all the way.

******************************

They spent most of the morning decorating the tree, Christmas music playing in the background.  When Elvis sang "I'll have a blue Christmas without you," Jim pulled Blair into his arms, swaying their bodies in time with the music, lips nuzzling at the younger man's neck.

"My Christmas was blue last year without you," he confided in a low voice.

Blair pulled back in astonishment.  "You've had feelings for me for *that* long?"

Jim shook his head.  "They weren't conscious feelings at the time.  It was more like an emptiness when you weren't around.  Kind of like something that had been full was suddenly empty."

"I never knew you were such a hopeless romantic, Ellison," Blair teased in a soft voice, eyes twinkling at his partner.

"Must be you bring it out in me, Sandburg," Jim grinned back before claiming the luscious mouth that was smiling at him.

"Yeah," Blair gasped a few minutes later, "That and the caveman side."  He slapped Jim on the ass before pulling away.  "C'mon, big guy--we're never gonna get this tree done this way."

"Yeah, but think of what it'll remind us of," Jim smirked.

"You're such a wise-ass."  Blair shook his head and handed another strand of colored lights to his lover.  "You really want a Pavlovian response to pine trees?"

Jim considered the question for a moment.  "It would make camping a lot more interesting..."

Blair threw the light box at him, then went back to adjusting the lights on the tree.

******************************

The next major memory fragment caught Blair early on Christmas eve morning.  He'd just gotten out of the warm bed to go to the bathroom when he heard a sneering voice shout, "SHUT UP!  Or I'll kill you instead of just robbing you!"  Then the feel of a hard, backhanded slap across the face.  He stood there in the hallway, shaking, his hand pressed against his cheek as he remembered the feelings of helplessness and terror as he was shoved from the car, then held first by one, then the other, as the two men took turns beating him.  He sank to his knees with a whimper when he remembered his ribs cracking after one vicious punch followed by a hard kick when he fell.  "Fucking fag!"  He could hear the voice in his head, remembered the picture he'd carried in his wallet...the picture of him and Jim.

Jim.

Another whimper followed when the memories of his feelings for his roommate--locked away for so long--welled to the surface.  He'd loved him for so long and now had all that love returned and he hadn't even been able to remember wanting it.

There were still gaps there.  He couldn't remember what happened after he'd been beaten so badly.  He vaguely remembered being pushed back into the car, but what happened after that was a total blank.  Probably would remain that way, too, according to the psychiatrist at Spokane General.  The brain often would purposely forget trauma as a means of survival.

"Blair?  What's wrong, babe?"

Jim's voice.  Warm, calm and strong, coming from just above him, still on the stairs.

"I-I'm okay, Jim."  Damn!  He could hear the trembling in his voice.

"What happened?"

"I remembered, Jim.  I can remember what happened from the moment you told me you loved me up until they beat me nearly into unconsciousness."

"So why did they do it?"  The voice was moving as Jim came down the stairs.

"They were robbing me."

"That's it?  Just for some money?"

Blair gave a short laugh and headed back into the living room.  Jim joined him on the couch.  "Chief?"

"They found a picture I'd kept of us--you know, the one we had taken after the hostage situation with Kincaid?  I had that in my wallet, and my police credentials in my jacket pocket.  I hadn't had time to do anything with them between the time we got home and you reamed my ass and when I left.  I guess the two combined together just kind of sent them over the edge."

"What happened then?"

"I don't remember that for sure...but I can guess."

"Yeah?"

"Well, they were just going to leave me there to die--from exposure, I guess.  Then one said why don't they put me back in the car and take off, and just toss me out of the car later."

"Did they?"

"I don't remember that part, but I think so."  Blair shivered at the thought.  He was damn lucky to be alive.

"Jesus, Blair."  Jim gathered him into his arms, gently stroked Blair's back and shoulders.

They sat there for a while, just holding on to each other, Jim stroking Blair until the trembling stopped.  Blair yawned hugely, his body needing to complete the rest cycle, now that the worst of the trauma had been remembered and processed.  Jim stroked his hair, then shifted them around, pulling Blair on top of him.

"Go to sleep, baby.  I'll hold you and you'll be safe.  Go to sleep."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair mumbled around a yawn.

"I love you," was the last thing he heard for a while.

*****************************

Blair stepped out of the shower and surveyed himself in the nearly-fogged mirror.  Clean, inside and out, thanks to a hurried trip to the drugstore up the street.  'All you're gonna do is say the words.  It's just telling the guy what you've been showing him for over a month now, Sandburg.  Jeesh!'  He was scared.  Of what, or why, he wasn't sure.  Maybe because it'd been easier to hide behind not having any memory of loving Jim than to face up to it.  He'd spent most of his life avoiding deep, lasting relationships; whether they were same-sex or not didn't matter.  Blair Sandburg was afraid of commitment.  'You'd best get *over* being afraid then,' he told his reflection sternly. 'You've got the best thing that ever happened to you waiting for you out there in the living room.  Your other half...the other half of your soul.  Go out and tell him.  Now.'

He shook his hair one more time, then picked the tangles out and blew it dry.  Heart racing with apprehension and joy he pulled his robe on, belted it tightly, and headed for the living room and Jim.

His lover was attired similarly.  It was a nice way to relax and unwind after the emotional day they'd had.  The fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, there were mugs of mulled cider on the coffee table and the Christmas tree sparkled in the corner, multicolored lights twinkling at them.  Jim had turned off all but the small light over the sink, so it was dim and beautiful inside the loft.  Even without recourse to sentinel hearing Blair could detect the wind blowing mightily outside and knew that the snow that had been forecast for tonight was on its way.

Jim was sprawled on the couch, a book in hand, obviously waiting for him.  He cleared his throat nervously, then walked over and knelt next to the couch.

"Hey."

The bigger man looked up, a smile creasing his face.  "Hey, yourself.  All clean?"

Blair made a face.  "I'm just glad you left me *some* hot water, man.  It was a near thing, too."

"I offered to let you shower with me, Chief,"  a large hand rose to caress his cheek and Blair leaned into the touch.  "I love you, Blair."  Jim leaned toward him, brushed his mouth across Blair's in a sweet, soft kiss.

Blair sighed into the kiss, following the mouth when it would retreat.  He coaxed it into opening and teased with his tongue, licking the corners of Jim's mouth, then sliding his tongue into the warm interior to mate with Jim's tongue.

Both men were breathless when they separated, leaning forehead to forehead, eyes glowing.

"I love you, Jim."

"Blair?"

"It's stupid to keep waiting to say that...just because I don't remember everything.  I *felt* it this morning...the feelings I've had for you--that I had for you.  I've loved you practically since I woke up in the hospital, Jim.  I mean, I loved you before that, but--"

"Shh," Jim placed a finger, then his lips, briefly against Blair's mouth.  "It's okay, baby.  I love you, too."  Jim's eyes were shining with emotion when he lowered his head again, claiming Blair's mouth in a kiss that left no doubt as to the depth of his feelings.

"Whew," Blair muttered some time later, when Jim let him up for air.  "If I had any doubts before, they're gone now, for sure."

"I'm glad," Jim smirked.  "Wouldn't want you doubting."

Blair stood up and gazed down at his lover.  "Do you want to unwrap presents tonight, or in the morning?"

Jim shook his head.  "Doesn't matter to me.  Why?"

Shaking hands guided large, warm ones to a narrow waist, and the belt there.  "I thought, if you wanted to tonight, you could start with me."

"Blair--"

The smaller hands helped the larger ones undo the knot, then moved away as the robe was loosened and spread open.  Hands stroked upward, almost reverently, caressing the soft skin, hard muscle and silky hair found there.  "Oh, Blair," Jim sighed again.

"Merry Christmas, lover," Blair whispered as he climbed onto Jim to straddle the bigger man.  He lowered his mouth to Jim's, opening for him, offering of himself.

Jim's head spun from the headiness of the situation.  This was seduction, pure and simple.  He breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of Blair, layered by shampoo, soap, conditioner and the spice that just was *Blair*.  He breathed in again, trying to absorb the scent.  His guide tasted of cider and heat, a hint of pungent sage from earlier, pumpkin pie spice and sex.  Or was he confusing scent and taste now?  No matter, it was arousing however it was being delivered.  He opened Blair's mouth wide with his own, running his tongue around inside, tasting fully.

Warm hands caressed his chest under his robe, fingers feathering over his nipples, causing hard aching points.  He groaned low in his throat and Blair shushed him the same way, fingers moving harder against the hard buds, pinching and teasing, body undulating gently against Jim's.

Jim tore his mouth away, gasping from the multiple levels of stimulation.  "God, Blair--"

"Easy, Jim.  Too much?"

Ellison nodded, eyes reflecting his need, his heat.

"Then we'll ease up for a minute.  Let's lie down by the fire, okay?"

"Yeah."

They pulled the blankets from Blair's old bed and added a couple of pillows.  While Jim sat down on the blankets, Blair double-checked the pocket of his robe for the tube of lubricant he'd placed there earlier, then slipped the robe off, watching Jim's face all the while.

The bigger man stared at him, hunger burning so fiercely in his eyes that Blair shivered from the heat they were throwing off.  He knelt in front of Jim, then reached for his robe.  He pushed it off the broad shoulders, sighing in pleasure at the hard flesh revealed to him.

"Michaelangelo's 'David' has nothing on you, lover," Blair muttered as he leaned to kiss the hot skin.  Jim moaned at the touch of Blair's tongue and reached for the smaller man.

"I want to make love to you," he mumbled against the smooth skin of Blair's throat.  His tongue licked broad strokes up and down, sliding on the bare skin, rasping on the stubble-rough skin of Blair's jawbone and cheeks.

"I want you to," Blair managed, his body shivering from Jim's tongue bath.  "Want to feel you inside me," he continued, tilting his head back, allowing Jim better access.

"Oh, yeah," Jim whispered, kissing his way down Blair's throat, pausing to nip at the tender flesh on the collarbone.  "You taste so good, baby...so good.  You're hot...ripe...sweet..."

Blair felt the world tipping then realized it was only Jim gently pushing him backward, to lay on the blankets.  He gazed up at his lover, his smoky-blue eyes dark with desire, body displayed proudly for Jim to look at.

"Touch me?" he murmured low, arching toward Jim, body inviting.  His partner was sitting on his haunches, staring at him like he'd never seen him before.  Blair narrowed his eyes for a minute, then stroked a hand down his own body, pausing to pinch an already hard and throbbing nipple.  "Jim...please, lover...touch me!  I need you..."

Jim moved forward then, lips beginning their caresses where he'd left off, just below the collarbone.  He swept his tongue down Blair's chest, wetting the hair there, tasting the texture against his tongue and comparing it to the texture of other body hair.  Blair's chest had a slightly salty taste, possibly from the sweat collecting there, both from the fire and his own internal combustion.  Blair arched into him, one hand coming up to guide him to the hard little peaks that were begging for a touch, a lick, a caress.

First the right nipple, already budded, achingly erect.  Jim could feel the blood pounding in it, engorging the soft tissue.  He licked at it lovingly, felt Blair jump under his touch.  He pointed his tongue and drew a wet circle around the areola then blew warm air across it and watched as it tightened further.  Blair moaned and drew his head down tighter against him, urging him to take the little nub in his mouth.  He suckled gently, then increased the pressure until his lover was writhing beneath him, arching into his mouth.

The left nipple was highly sensitive, the gold ring piercing it a constant source of low-level stimulation.  Jim circled it carefully with his tongue, a teasing, flicking motion that stimulated, but not too much.  His teeth grazed the tip of the sensitive bud and Blair groaned, a throaty sound.

"More...please, more..." he gasped, Jim's fingers worrying at the other bud as his teeth continued to torment.

"Soon, baby," Jim soothed, licking the hot little peaks, caressing them.  He moved lower, his lips and tongue continuing their caresses downward.

Blair nearly rose off the blanket when the wet heat of Jim's mouth moved down his cock, swallowing him nearly to the base.  He growled low and thrust his hips upward, moving into the heat.  Then it was gone and he was lying back, panting, body still straining upward, seeking.

"Jim...please..."

"Easy, baby.  I want this to be good for you."  Jim stroked Blair's erection, sliding his thumb across the weeping tip, gathering the pre-cum already glistening there.  He brought his thumb to his mouth, sucked the fluid off, his eyes never leaving Blair's.  "You taste so good, Chief.  Let's see how the rest of you tastes."

He gently rolled Blair onto his stomach, placing a small pillow under his hips, propping him up a little.  His eyes heated as he gazed at Blair's ass--pure perfection.  He began by stroking his fingertips downward, from Blair's shoulders, over his back, brushing softly across the firm flesh of asscheeks.  They tightened under his touch, then relaxed when he stopped to massage, rubbing tiny circles with the barest tips of his fingers.  He let his fingers drift across the hot skin, dipping down to lightly caress the shadowy cleft, sliding along the crease there.  Blair pushed himself up into the touch, tiny whimpers emerging from his throat.

"You like that, babe?"  Jim roughened his touch, adding more pressure.  A thumb strayed this time, rubbing seductively at the crack, teasing at the edge of the rosebud entrance to Blair's body.

"Ohhhh...yeah..."  More an exhalation of breath than actual speech.  Blair sighed again and spread his legs further apart, inviting.

"Want more?"

"Please?"

Jim smiled at the sight of Blair shifting and moving restlessly under his touch.  His lover's body was heating up, incremental increases in temperature the longer he touched him.  He shifted himself in between Blair's legs, spreading them even further.  His large hands cupped the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing it.  He spread his fingers wide and eased the cheeks apart, widening the cleft.  A soft sigh met his ears when he lowered his head just enough to blow a stream of warm, moist air on the exposed area.  Blair tensed then relaxed as the sensation flowed over him, whimpering when it stopped.  Jim smiled and lowered his head, this time tracing the crack with his tongue, stopping short of the budded opening that was beckoning to him.  He laved the area around it, holding Blair's hips still with his hands.  At the first touch of his tongue to the sensitive nerves around the anus Blair pushed up against him ferociously, hips bucking.

"*Please*," he cried out.  "Do something...lick me, fuck me, I don't care...just *do* something!"

Jim licked across the hot hole, then pressed his tongue into it, causing another cry to rise up from the straining figure beneath him.

"You taste good," he muttered in a ragged voice.  "I knew you'd taste good, baby," he finished, diving back in.  He worked the tip of his tongue into Blair, moving it in tiny, stabbing motions, flicking in and out until the man beneath him was practically sobbing with pleasure and need.

While he tongue-fucked him, Jim caressed Blair's balls, stroking and rolling the sacs.  He felt them tightening under his touch and his own contracted, reminding him of his own painful erection.  He'd wanted Blair for so long...all their lovemaking up to this point had been wonderful, but Blair had been holding part of himself back.  Now he was giving everything.

"I want inside you, baby," he muttered, drawing back from Blair's body.

"Yes..." the younger man panted, his breathing harsh and fast.  "Do it...I want you...want to be yours..."  Blair twisted his head to look at Jim.  "Robe pocket," he added, pointing with a shaking finger.

Jim turned away for a moment, then pressed back against him.  Blair sighed when one finger, cool and slick with gel, eased its way into his hot body.  The gel felt good as Jim rubbed it into his opening, gently coating it.  A second finger joined the first, slowly stretching him open.

"Ready for me, baby?" he asked, stroking lube onto his own straining erection.  He was already slick with pre-cum, but added a generous amount of lube to be sure.

"God, yes," Blair managed, a heartfelt sound.  "Now, lover.  I want you now!"

"You got me," Jim muttered, shifting Blair, pulling his hips up.  He pressed his aching cock to the small hole and pressed forward, easing in.  Blair groaned, then visibly relaxed, allowing Jim further entrance.  "That's it, baby...oh, god, you're so hot...so tight..."

Blair moaned his answer, his brain to busy with the sensations to think of words to reply.  He felt so full...so filled.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything so good... "More," he gasped.

Jim pushed in, sheathing himself the rest of the way in one smooth stroke.  Blair's body stretched around him, then tightened again, engulfing him completely.  He was in.  He was all the way in, getting ready to fuck his partner.  His lover.

"I love you," he groaned as he pulled out to stroke in again.

"Yessss..."  Blair hissed his answer, then braced himself as Jim began thrusting into him.

He set a hard, hot rhythm that had both men gasping and panting.  Jim slid himself forward on Blair, resting his weight on his knees, twining his fingers with Blair's.  The younger man pressed back against him, wiggling a little.  Jim shifted and changed his angle of entry a little and Blair shouted with the next thrust as the tip of Jim's cock bumped against his prostate.

He thrust over and over into the hot, willing body under him, hands clasped, both men shaking.  Blair pushed himself downward to rub his aching erection against the blanket, seeking his own release.  Jim thrust, hitting the prostate again and Blair came with a shriek as his body spasmed unexpectedly.

Jim growled when the heated tunnel tightened around him, drawing him in further.  His orgasm was pulled up from his depths, spewing forth in a rush, flooding Blair with his seed.  They collapsed together, still joined, bodies straining from the effort.

**************************

"Jim?"  Blair leaned back and nudged his larger partner with his elbow.  "Jim, man, you gotta move.  You're crushing me, here."

Jim grunted and shifted slowly off Blair, his penis slipping from his lover's body.  "You are incredible, Sandburg."

"Thanks, man," Blair flushed hotly.  "You're not too bad yourself, you know?"  His body still ached and tingled in all the right places.  "I'm glad we didn't wait to unwrap the presents."

"We only unwrapped one," Jim pointed out, laughing a little.

"So?  Wasn't it the right one?"

"It was perfect, Chief," Jim leaned to kiss his partner.  "Just perfect."

"Merry Christmas, lover," Blair caressed Jim's head while he kissed him gently.  "I love you."

"I love you, too, Blair.  Merry Christmas."

~finis~

 


End file.
